Close Proximity
by WaveGoodbye
Summary: Listening to Quinn apologise and promise her father that she would be home tomorrow was perhaps more surreal than being handcuffed to her. Quinn's voice went soft and yielding in a way that Rachel had never quite heard before and it brought forth a strange surge of protectiveness within her.


**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, the characters do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for fun.

**Author's Note: **This was inspired by an off-handed wish for handcuffed!Faberry by nerdybutt on Tumblr, and finished because of Angel's birthday. Happy Birthday! Here, have twenty-three thousand words (shhh, this website can't count).

* * *

A contagious air of annoyance radiated from Quinn Fabray more often these days, she would freely admit. The changes in her body and mind during pregnancy were plentiful and irrepressible, meaning that no matter how deeply she willed it there was no getting out of buying bigger clothes or suppressing a foul mood. The latter wasn't always terrible; she wasn't a bomb that would explode at any given moment, but at the same time she could only be pushed so far before any single person in close range would be in pieces.

Everyone knew that. Everyone. From people she loved and cared about to people she wouldn't think twice of if she never saw them again, right down to people she'd never met but were also sporting a baby bump.

Common knowledge, her pregnancy was being called at this point. Old news. She had somehow made it through almost seven months of this, and yet the people who spent the most time with her were apparently clueless as to how she worked.

Friday nights were different to how she used to spend them. She wasn't being tossed up into the air in front of a sparse McKinley crowd anymore, they were more low-key. Still, even they didn't compare to being dragged away from a hot bubble bath for a team meeting at Rachel Berry's house.

Their first ever Nationals was fast approaching and there were some so-called unacceptable flaws in their routine. At the beginning, one or two people may have responded to the polite yet slightly overenthusiastic text message from the only co-captain who really deserved the title, but a lot had happened in a short space of time and despite some of them not being ready to verbalise it yet, they were all bonded. They all cared about each other. A more frightening possibility for some: they were starting to become friends.

Bonded or not, friends or not, nobody was thrilled to have yet another weekend cut into by an impromptu rehearsal. Most of them said as much, yet they also listened to any tips Rachel gave. Competitiveness was something each of them had in common.

Standing under the spotlights above the stage, remembering her moves with ease thanks to years of having to learn routines, Quinn stopped caring about a trophy. It'd been a long day and she wasn't sleeping well at night lately. She found it difficult to keep up on days like this.

She'd sooner sew her own mouth shut than admit that, especially to Rachel.

The second her part of the choreography was complete she turned her back on the blaring lights and walked away from the overpowering body heat emanating from everyone around her, hands firmly planted low on her hips like her back was aching.

Several people followed the action with curiosity, some with concern thrown in, but they knew better than to fuss. Infallibly missing such a cue, Rachel looked over at Quinn apologetically. "Quinn, are you—"

"Fine."

"Do you need a break?" Rachel knew the answer to that question before it even left her lips but she had to say it.

"No," Quinn replied neutrally as the group broke away from each other and jumped down from the stage to rehydrate or just sit down. Finn stepped down and walked over to her, glancing up.

"Wanna sit?"

As everyone else was, she didn't see why not anymore. The press of Quinn's lips was a grateful one and she walked into his waiting arms, wrapping hers around his neck as she was lifted and lowered to the edge of the stage where she could take the weight off her feet.

It must be getting late. She'd be able to go home soon, maybe even get a good night's rest after the extra exertion.

They'd worked at it for several hours, completing several successful run-throughs and even managed to keep it together when Rachel threw some disaster scenarios their way such as losing audio, forgetting lyrics, misplaced steps during choreography. She was actually very encouraging and made sure the group know how proud she was of the team and how they could wipe the floor with Vocal Adrenaline.

It was mildly inspiring, Quinn conceded reluctantly. If she didn't think about how dramatic it was, anyway. But that was just Rachel. Quinn couldn't roll her eyes every time the other girl said something a little over the top, and nor did she really care to anymore.

Rachel watched the scene of her friends occupying her basement on a Friday night, complete with a surprised yet prideful look on her face. They'd taken everything she'd thrown at them and really was proud of her team. It was hers. Mr. Schue could scarcely call ownership on a group he delivered dated and repetitive choreography and music to, all without extra practices on the weekends to ensure a win. He didn't care as much.

Rachel took a long drink from a bottle of water and then addressed the group again, deciding to go over one more of the disaster scenarios. The last one she could think of, really.

Quinn, despite having Finn's hand applying pressure to her lower back, interrupted Rachel mid-speech. "Rachel."

"Yes?"

"Why am I part of your disaster scenario?"

As far as voices went, Rachel considered Quinn's to be one of her favourites. Confident and direct; soft and smooth when it had to be. It was like Quinn was ten paces ahead of everybody else and always had her lines memorised. Since spending extra time together this year, Rachel had noticed it more and more. It was one of many leadership qualities that the youngest Fabray daughter possessed. Self-admittedly, Rachel shared several and admired every one of them.

Quinn's voice was confident and smooth now, the way it got when she was trying to remind people that she hadn't gotten soft in pregnancy. Had Rachel not gotten a glimpse of aforementioned soft Quinn over the past couple of months, rare though the sighting may have been, she would have balked a little at the question.

She did, however, feel contrite at the possibility of hurt feelings. Her hand raised some, fingers opening passively. "I'm just saying, birthing mini Quinn on our competition stage is not what I would call a sure win, and I want a sure win."

"I'm an asset to this team, did you forget that?"

"Of course not."

"Then stop using me as an example."

Rachel straightened up defensively the moment Quinn directed her stormy gaze elsewhere. "You didn't even let me finish! Should the stage become prepared for us to do Singin' In the Rain or Umbrella, I-I was going to suggest a way we could win back points—"

"How much water you think's gonna come out of Quinn?" Mercedes asked after a loud guffaw.

Her friends either looked amused or genuinely concerned. Next to Finn, Rachel could now see that Quinn's face had softened through embarrassment. The pink hue made her feel worse.

"We could show our support is all I mean."

Santana's face contorted with humour. "By helping to birth the next generation of Hudson center stage? You're prepared for that? What are you going to do, pad your bra with latex gloves and deliver her yourself?"

None of this was helping to smooth out the tension on Quinn's face. Rachel wished she'd kept her mouth shut in the first place. That being said, she was in her own home and if there was somewhere she wasn't going to be mocked, it was there. "It goes without saying that I would help in any way I could until we got to the closest hospital. Labour can be very traumatic, and we'll need your snide little comments as much then as we do now."

"I think we all know that if a baby shoots out on that stage, we're fucked for a trophy. Not trying to be a bitch, just realistic."

Rachel nodded gently. "You're probably right. But we all know that, realistically, if Quinn does go into labour on stage, a trophy is going to be the last thing on our minds."

Santana didn't disagree, but she didn't say that.

"Let's just forget about it," Tina said, steering the conversation away from the ugly place it was headed, especially with Quinn and Rachel involved. Without meaning to, she twisted what Quinn considered to be Rachel's knife in her back.

She turned her neck, an affronted puff of air expelled from her mouth. "Yep," Quinn forced out, "let's forget about my baby."

As clueless as she could be, Rachel spotted the telling signs of Quinn's growing wounds. While she felt it necessary to move closer to her, she wasn't about to chance getting too close. Her voice softened noticeably. "Quinn, that's not what Tina meant at all." Correct in her assumption that she wouldn't even get a glance from the girl, Rachel turned her attention to Finn as well. "Nobody is forgetting your baby. We can't wait to meet her, right guys?"

A chorus of agreement followed.

"Besides," Rachel added lightly, "it's not like we'd forget when you look like that."

Finn laughed just the once, nervous like, swallowing as he doubled his efforts in relieving the pressure from Quinn's back. Maybe if she wasn't in so much physical pain then— oh. Her eyes had gone the way they went when a maelstrom of rage was beginning to rise. He hated when her eyes got like that, bright and dark at the same time, sharp like they could split you in two. It was all a trick though, because if anything could split you in two it was Quinn's tongue.

And then the strangest thing happened.

Quinn turned away from Rachel to look him square in the eyes, if only for a second. It was enough to see her blinking away the shine to her eyes.

She used Finn's thigh to lower herself from the stage and crossed over the floor, right past Rachel. "At least I have an excuse for looking like this. What do you have?"

The steely expression and sharpness of Quinn's words were sudden and unexpected, cause of a slight sting to Rachel's chest. She thought Quinn was gorgeous during pregnancy, as should anyone with vision. She would never be cruel enough to criticise her physical appearance at any time, nevermind during the third trimester of pregnancy. To think that Quinn jumped to that conclusion was as much of a slur as the actual insult.

"What?"

"This was a stupid idea. We could practice twice a day and we still wouldn't win against Vocal Adrenaline. We won't win. You should probably prepare yourself for that."

"How dare you? We're _good_. This team is bursting with talent."

Quinn continued walking away, at the stairs. "They're better."

Rachel's face got stuck in an exasperated, horrified sort of expression for a solid three seconds as she processed that gross over-exaggeration. She headed towards the stairs. "What?" she demanded, extra emphasis on the 't'.

The heat inside began to cool once Quinn knew Rachel was affected. She didn't feel so stupid anymore for almost allowing unstable hormones to reduce her to tears in front of everyone. "In more ways than one," she added, for the hell of it.

"I'd like to hear them. I'm sure _all of us _would," Rachel said, bringing the group into this. It did little to deter Quinn from walking further away from her, though Puck coming back down to the basement following a suspiciously long toilet break prevented any dramatic exit.

He took in the sight of the first two people he saw, dishing out equal blame within seconds. The situation right now, whatever it was, however it began, had Berry written all over it. It wasn't Quinn's style to start something she couldn't finish, so it had to be Rachel. On the other hand, he knew Rachel didn't have it in her to intentionally begin a fight. He was going with equal blame.

"Noah, please ask Quinn what exactly she means when she says Vocal Adrenaline are better than us."

Before he could speak to the seething girl three steps down from him, to tell her how annoying and tiresome her frequent fights with Rachel became a long time ago, Quinn spun around and gripped the railing in an attempt to level Rachel with a stare. It wasn't entirely successful given that Rachel usually rose to whatever was thrown at her.

"Isn't it obvious?"

The tight draw of Rachel's lips and the way her brows arched displayed some level of surprise, and the lift of her chin defiance. "Yeah, but I was really hoping pregnancy hadn't made you a little slow, Quinn. From what I've heard on the street, a good percentage of women's brain activity actually decreases during their third trimester. You're there, right?"

Quinn smirked, and then she smiled.

Finn barked out a short laugh, his eyes darting to find the first-aid kit hanging on the wall somewhere. He was sure it was there; Rachel had pointed it out on the grand tour some weeks ago.

Stubbornly, Rachel refused to let her eyes stray from their target. She stood her ground even as Quinn calmly turned and made her way back down the stairs, her feet only stopping once she was close enough to see exactly how Rachel had chosen to line her eyes.

Quinn leaned in just a little bit, unable help the small thrill she felt at their slight height difference. Her advantage. "Say that again."

The breath Rachel sucked in was surely indicative of such, but before she could get a word out their friends seemed to close in around them. They were loud and unhappy with how their practice had grinded to a halt because of yet another disagreement between the two girls. It was the club's sixth rehearsal outside of school and the same number of times they'd all had to stand around and watch an episode of the Quinn and Rachel show. It wasn't even good.

Once he was sure a fight wasn't about to break out, Kurt gave a roll of his eyes. "Rachel, please, for your sake as much as ours, think before you speak. And Quinn, for your baby's sake, I think you should calm down."

"I'm calm."

Rachel scoffed. "You don't _sound _calm, you sound hysterical. The only way Vocal Adrenaline will ever better than the New Directions is if—"

Everyone had turned to their other co-captain for support, and Finn began the seamless process of tuning Rachel out while he had something difficult to say. His friends had talked to him about this before and he thought he had a handle on the girls, found a way to diffuse the situation. Finn, as he often was, was wrong. He winced. "The only way we're ever going to be better than them, Rach, is if you two stop…this."

"Stop what?" they asked, almost in unison. Quinn was faster.

He awkwardly thrust his arm out to gesture between the two of them. "All this." They still seemed confused. "The fighting! It's not cool," he added.

Rachel leapt to her own defence. "It's called _challenging_, and I wouldn't have to do it if she'd listen to me once in a while, or trust that I'm only ever trying to help her!"

"Helping means you're not a bitch," Quinn dismissed neutrally with a turn of her head. "Think you failed on that."

"This is what I mean. Y-you're so defensive, what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Take a hint?"

They were both so consumed that neither of them had noticed the way Puck had made his way around the group before coming to a stop beside Rachel, hands hidden from view. "Finn's right, and we all agree. Our biggest problem right now isn't about forgetting lines or screwing up a dance move, it's you two killing each other on stage."

"I would never do that."

"I wouldn't be stupid enough to do it in front of an audience," they said at the same time.

Aside from a brief dirty side-glance, Rachel let that comment roll off her shoulders to prove how committed she was to the team and their success. In her opinion, she'd done herself proud. Her opinion wasn't shared.

Mercedes kept her tone gentle. "Guys, we just think the weird tension is going to be picked up on by the judges, that's all. That kind of attention will be suicide." Beside her, Tina and Mike agreed.

"This is garbage," Rachel stated candidly after a beat. Judging from the lack of protest, Quinn agreed. "Do you really think the judges are going to be looking for signs of a spat between teammates when sound is coming from my mouth? When Quinn is singing, or Brittany and Mike dancing? We're assets; all of us. Unique. That's what makes us stand out from the crowd. That's how we're going to win, non-existent tension and all. Trust me."

The only person who trusted Rachel in that moment was Brittany. Standing close to Puck, she reached out an arm and tried to gain purchase on his t-shirt before he moved forward. The material slipped from her fingers, and then she heard the soft clicks of a handcuff being fastened.

Rachel appeared confused at the new addition to her wrist while Quinn's took a breath, preparing to inflict pain upon anybody who dared to come close to her with the second cuff. Her entire body stiffened, could feel her voice trembling. "If any of you so much as think about doing this, I swear to God—"

Quinn wasn't kidding about inflicting the pain; it's just that it was Rachel who was pushed towards her. Awkwardly shoved together, she had no time to process anything other than how strange it was to have her arms around Rachel Berry and a face-full of her hair. Not that she'd spent much time thinking about it, but it was softer than she thought it would be.

Quinn felt the cool, hard metal against her skin and wrenched her hand down out of reach, far away from Rachel's shoulder where it had ended up. She stepped backwards a couple of times and bumped into Mike, quickly turning her head to identify the body.

"Sorry about this," he offered sincerely, wrapping his arms around her from behind to hold her in place. It was tougher than he thought it would be.

Similarly, Rachel struggled against Puck's strength. She managed to slap him a few times, and he took them because he knew he was being a dick about the whole thing, he just didn't see any other way the two strongest females in the club —probably the whole school— would learn to get along unless forced to.

"You are _deplorable_," Rachel seethed, her little feet skidding against the floor in protest to being pushed forward. "This is what you were doing upstairs, concocting your little plan to force us together? I thought you were blocking the toilet. I would have preferred it!" Sadly, that time her hand was grabbed by Kurt, only millimetres away from Puck's face. The hold was firm yet gentle.

"We all agreed, Rach."

"This will be good for you," Mike said easily, like he was talking about something else entirely. He had to be. He wasn't that damaged.

Puck, after letting Rachel think her strength could overpower his for long enough, guided her forward until she was directly in front of Quinn and positioned his body behind hers, reaching for Quinn's unwillingly outstretched hand where he swiftly fastened the second cuff.

He stepped away from them quickly, a smile pulling at his mouth. The sense of achievement rolled off him in waves. "We did it."

Animation faded from Quinn's face, her voice levelling out. "If you don't get the key for these, I'm going to flay you alive."

Rachel agreed, though the sensation of the back of her hand bumping off Quinn's fingers kept her from speaking up. This was wrong, she was certainly furious with each and every teammate who went along with the ridiculous charade, but for once she didn't have to fight her corner so hard. Quinn was there, and perfectly capable. Perhaps even more-so. It was no secret that people were more afraid of Quinn than they were her.

Probably the eyes.

Kurt knew the threat was directed at Puck but the threat was no doubt viable for all of them. "Sweetie, we're not doing this to be mean. Think of it as a team building exercise. We love you both, we're not doing this to humiliate you, and we're not going to lock you in here. You can go wherever you want, as long as it's together."

Tina nodded. "Yeah, we just think you guys need to find some common ground. You don't have to like each other but you have to respect each other, at least during competitions."

"No," Quinn said simply.

"We really think time alone will equal that."

"After tonight, time alone will only equal homicide."

Rachel looked beside her and rolled her eyes. People called _her _dramatic? "I have plenty of respect for you."

Quinn's face twisted the second she heard it. Who did Rachel think she was kidding? "No, you don't."

"I have more for you than you do for me."

It wasn't denied, and Rachel's face took on a haughty appearance that did nothing to rid Quinn of the rage spreading like wildfire. This wasn't happening. There was no way she was going to be handcuffed to Berry with no end in sight. Finn was standing idly by, not even making an attempt to help her. She was the mother of his baby, for God's sake. "Finn, if you don't get the key for these, do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

His hands were meekly shoved into his pockets. "I had nothin' to do with this."

"And so far you've had nothing to do with getting me out of them. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem."

He wasn't stupid enough to smile, but he had to admire how alike Quinn and Rachel were sometimes. They probably didn't even know it. Judging by the size of the mess they were in, they didn't. He agreed that the girls did need to spend some time together to really get to know each other, bond or whatever, but the soft side of him hesitated at the chosen method.

Finn looked over at Puck guiltily, apologetic that he didn't completely have his friend's back. It was difficult when Quinn was involved. "Guys, do they really have to be joined at the hip like this? Maybe there's some other way."

Nobody could think of a better solution, and so it was decided that the cuffs would stay.

Truthfully, Rachel didn't really care that she was bound to Quinn. She was more concerned with having to deal with the sensitivity and mood swings. It wasn't like she would be able to escape. Her eyes cut to Puck, then the rest of her friends. "I bet you've been planning this for weeks," she accused. "I didn't invite you into my home so that you could violate my trust by bringing your handcuffs that have been on god knows how many wrists—"

Quinn frowned at the possibilities.

"I didn't," he said, stuck in a place between defensive and entertained.

Rachel's voice notched higher. "You're such a liar."

"No, really, I didn't. They're not mine." Nothing suggested he was being insincere this time, not even his snort after a long pause. All it did was confuse her, and that sent Puck off again. "If I wasn't taking a shit and all of the hot girls were down here, why do you think I was so long upstairs?"

Rachel's mouth dropped open, while Quinn's stomach rolled.

"You went snooping?" Rachel hissed, horrified at what he could have seen in her room. When realisation dawned, it was slowly. She didn't own handcuffs. That must mean… "Oh, God."

"Your Dads have a box under their bed."

Quinn saw red. "When I get out of these, I promise you, Puck Junior will be in a box."

Puck stopped laughing fairly quickly.

x x x x

The group took the key with them, and Rachel's fathers were out of town for the night to visit friends from college. It'd been planned for months, and despite knowing she could call them for any reason, Rachel soon decided against it. She really couldn't imagine pulling them away from a reunion because she'd gotten herself shackled to the most popular girl in school, who also happened to be seven months pregnant and made it no secret that she despised her.

Quinn's nails were short, so less chance of Rachel's face sporting a line of scabs should an altercation take place. They were also perfectly painted. Rachel wondered if Quinn had done them herself or paid someone to—

"Stop touching me," Quinn ordered with a tug of her hand. She didn't mind if Rachel was actually doing something useful like examining the chain for weaknesses, but all she'd done in the several minutes they'd been alone is ask if she was all right, and that was pointless. Of course Quinn wasn't okay. Less so when Rachel held her fingers and stared at her nails like they were friends.

"I was just admiring your nails."

Pulling Rachel with her, Quinn walked over to the couch and sat down. She appeared to be deep in thought for a moment, biting the corner of her lip. When she looked up, Rachel was awkwardly standing with her legs pressed against the front of the couch, her arm extended in the air so that Quinn could rest hers on her legs. She seemed patient; a foreign concept to Quinn right now. "Do you have a cleaver?"

Rachel swallowed, her head shaking. "No. Nope." The following arch of Quinn's left brow made her nervous, and then Quinn tried to push herself up. Luckily for Rachel, the couch was old and, while comfortable, difficult to get out of even for her. "My Friday night is not turning into a re-enactment of 127 Hours!"

"I'm not staying like this."

"We'll figure something else out," she promised. "It's been ten minutes, o-okay. We don't have to resort to cutting off body parts."

Quinn stared at her. She was already so done. "I was just going to break the chain." The couch was like a black fucking hole, she kept falling back. She sighed heavily, sticking her free hand out. "Pull."

"No." The hardened stare was enough for Rachel to reach for Quinn's hand, close hers around it. She didn't pull. "Promise me you won't cut my hand off."

"Fine."

"Promise me."

"I promise," Quinn growled out. Once she was pulled to her feet, fairly easily which surprised her, she added, "Can't promise anything about your tongue."

She led Rachel upstairs and to the kitchen, knowing the way from the amount of times she'd been dragged there over the past month and a half. The knife block was in the corner of the counter and she felt Rachel resist as they moved closer to it.

"Please consider the possibility of being charged with aggravated assault," Rachel pleaded, watching the cleaver being pulled out of its slot. "I'll press charges if I lose even a digit."

"Without the knife there's a possibility for being charged with that."

They moved to a free space on the counter and lay their hands down. One of them needed a little gentle persuasion, but they got there. Quinn licked her lips and ignored the nerves radiating from Rachel. She instructed her to pull her hand as far away from hers as she could, even if the cuffs dug into her skin. There was a decent gap, enough to bring a knife down with a precise swing of the wrist. She could do it.

Rachel was appalled to find the cleaver thrust into her hand.

"Do it," Quinn ordered.

"No!"

"Do you want to stay like this all night?"

"If it means I'm spared being sliced 'n' diced, yes!"

"Ugh," Quinn spat as Rachel put the knife down. She should've known she'd be alone in hating every second of this. She picked the cleaver back up and positioned it over the chain. "Put your hand on mine, and push down as hard as you can."

"That will never work."

"Just do it."

"No." Rachel's eyes widened and she drew her shoulders up. "The knife will just slip and go through a vein! I don't like blood, it makes me squeamish."

Quinn had been in a state of duress ever since the handcuff had been fastened around her wrist, but this was the first time she could feel her blood beginning to boil, heart rate picking up. She took several calming breaths. A successful method for all of seconds.

In an instant, Rachel's frustration was replaced with concern. Her free hand dropped to Quinn's bump. "Are you okay? Stress like this can't be good for her. Try to calm down, okay. I'm sure we'll be out of these first thing in the—" Her sentence died off when Quinn pushed the contact away.

"Don't touch my bump."

"Do you want some herbal tea?"

"No, I don't want tea."

"Maybe you're hungry? I hid a bag of my favourite pretzels before everyone came over. You can have some."

"I'm not hungry. I need to think," Quinn muttered, staring at nothing in the kitchen as she tried to come up with a different plan.

"We could go to the police," Rachel suggested. "Explain we have heathens for friends, and we're out of there in minutes."

"No."

Rachel thought it was better than Quinn's idea of chopping through the chain. "Why not?"

"Because I said so."

Two of Russell's best friends were employed at Lima's precinct; she couldn't chance something like this getting out. It was nowhere near the same league as getting pregnant but she'd swore to her parents that she wouldn't give them another reason to be embarrassed or bring attention to herself. Seeing as they hadn't kicked her out, which she'd fully expected upon telling them that they were going to be grandparents, Quinn wanted to do everything she could to keep her word.

That wasn't a good enough answer but Rachel knew she wouldn't get anything different for asking again. She shrugged passively. "Fine, then what do you propose?" She said nothing when Quinn turned on her heel and pulled her along. She followed willingly, climbing the stairs one by one. Quinn unwittingly produced a tired sigh when she reached the top of the staircase, and Rachel smiled faintly behind.

She was about to point out that they had a downstairs bathroom but was led further down the hallway until they reached her parents' room. "This isn't my room."

"I know."

Rachel nodded. "Oh," she murmured. Following Quinn's line of sight, she looked to the king-sized bed. "How do you know?"

"You don't smell like this." Quinn's foot pushed a large slipper out from its place under the bed. "And you'd look ridiculous with size eleven feet."

"Twelve," Rachel corrected amiably.

"Find the box."

The fond curve of her lips fell quickly, skin creasing on her head. "No."

"There has to be a spare key," Quinn pointed out, her voice smooth and controlled. "Look for it."

"I will not," Rachel all but shrieked. "Do you know how many therapy sessions I'm going to have to dedicate to this disturbing turn of events already?"

"Not nearly as many as me. Look, they're your parents, you have to look. We'll be free from this."

That was exactly why Rachel didn't have to look. Couldn't look. "Quinn, there's no force on earth that would make me find and open that box."

Quinn agreed, and she didn't blame Rachel for it but that didn't mean she couldn't be frustrated that they were no closer to getting out of this mess. Kurt left the house in possession of the key and told them he would call in the morning to see how everything was going and if they were both still alive. She did a quick mental recap of the cleaver, no spare key, and no going to the cops. They were the best three options to freeing themselves of, well, each other, and none of them were successful.

The resigned shake of Quinn's head was very telling.

"We're going to have to wait for Kurt, aren't we?"

Unwilling to verbalise defeat just yet, Quinn said nothing in response. She couldn't think in there and had been on her aching feet longer than they were comfortable with, so she walked out of the room with Rachel close behind.

Puck may have snooped tonight, but he wasn't the first person to do so. One of the first times she and the rest of the team were dragged over to Rachel's house was a day she'd been miserable with nausea and left the basement in favour of finding a bathroom far enough away that nobody would hear her being sick. Her mother had suffered with morning sickness throughout most of her pregnancy with Quinn's older sister, and assured Quinn that still experiencing that particular symptom at her stage of pregnancy wasn't unheard of.

She'd felt awful, truly, and needed some time away from the music and choreography. Finding Rachel's bedroom had been an accident.

This time it was not.

Quinn headed straight for the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Rachel stood in front, her thoughts consisting of which playbill she could offer Kurt in return for him bringing the key back tonight. She didn't think she could bear to part with any of them…

Quinn's hand was really soft.

Rachel looked down curiously to where her hand was being held. She smiled. "We'll get through this."

"Yeah," Quinn said.

This was nice. This was how she and Quinn were _supposed _to be. It would be plain sailing if they stayed like this for the rest of the night. In fact, it would be a joy.

Rachel watched Quinn's fingers move over her hand, finally closing around her thumb.

Quinn glanced up from underneath her lashes, her mouth beginning to curve upwards before she contained it. "How opposed are you to a broken bone?"

Rachel flung her hand away, breaking all contact aside from the cuffs keeping them linked. "Very!"

"Don't be so dramatic, it'd heal."

"Th-then let's break yours!"

"Why are you shouting?"

"Because you're awful," Rachel proclaimed. "What if it healed wrong? Huh? It would throw off my entire bow and wave I've been perfecting since I was four." Her wide eyes searched Quinn's for any sign of remorse, her head moving forward as a prompt. Fruitless, she settled on a demonstration, stepping back to fold at the waist with a theatrical and flamboyant wave of her hand.

Quinn's entertainment was halted by the top of Rachel's head being much too close to her chest than she wanted it. She pushed it away.

"Wow."

Rachel accepted it as a compliment. "Yes, thank you."

"On the plus side, if you're in New York you'd always be hailing a cab."

"Or inadvertently be hitchhiking for the rest of my life; a sure death sentence."

Quinn huffed out a heavy sigh, out of ideas again. She wasn't going to be the one to break or dislocate Rachel's thumb, she just hoped Rachel would jump on board with the fast solution. "Your turn," she said.

"I-I have a paper clip," Rachel informed her, turning to search for the pile of papers her English Lit teacher gave her in third period. "Perhaps we could pick the lock. Do you happen to know how?"

Quinn didn't spend her free time doing anything close to that, but she would give it a shot. There wasn't much choice.

"Find it, and we'll see."

After twenty minutes, kneeling compliantly in front of the bed with her arm stuck in the air, Rachel decided that Quinn didn't know how to pick a lock. She sported a frown mostly born out of concentration and Rachel stared up at her face more than their hands. The healthy glow made Quinn's skin look as close to perfect as she'd ever seen it —not quite flawless, but more than enough to cause Rachel to stare. The high cheekbones were another reason, and then there was the defined line of her jaw and soft, full lips. She really was gorgeous.

"You're so beautiful."

Quinn's face twisted into something else, lowering her eyes demandingly. Of all the things Rachel could have said, that was the last thing she was expecting.

"I-I just happened to notice, so…" Rachel trailed off meekly. Quinn was so close to her, it was impossible not to be taken by her eyes when they were on hers. She was right earlier, it was definitely the eyes.

Quinn wet her lips and tried to ignore anything else that came out of Rachel's mouth while she concentrated on freeing them, but it was becoming harder to hold faith in a small, flimsy paperclip when it bended so easily, useless against steel.

It didn't work.

They'd both tried to come up with another worthy plan and fell short, although Quinn attributed her failure to a full bladder. She'd needed to go an hour ago in the basement but Puck's reappearance and Rachel's big mouth made her postpone going. It was getting too hard to ignore it, and she shifted uncomfortably, prompting a question of her well-being.

Quinn sighed in defeat, and got up. The change of position made her realise that she really, really had to go. "Bathroom," she rushed out. "I can't hold it anymore."

"It's dangerous to hold it at all. You should have told me as soon as you needed to go."

With Rachel standing, Quinn moved towards the en-suite. She was beyond mortified at having to use the bathroom in front of her but the need was too great for any resistance. "Turn around."

Rachel obliged. "Of course."

"Don't you dare look."

"I won't."

It felt good to finally go, but it was surreal having Rachel right there. Surreal in the worst way. Quinn constantly fretted, frequently glancing up to make sure Rachel was still facing away from her.

Rachel's ears picked up on the soft grunt instantly. "What?"

"_Don't _look."

"I was just asking what was wrong."

"I'm fine," Quinn forced out, sounding far from it, "it's just awkward doing this with one hand."

Rachel understood perfectly. "Would you like some help pulling up your—"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

Struggling, Quinn's eyes darted up from her legs to the back of Rachel's head, paranoid that it had turned closer to her in the scant seconds it'd been since she last checked. "I swear, if I catch you moving your head…"

"Quinn, it's not exactly high on my fantasy list to see you on the toilet," Rachel said, a smile evident in her voice.

Quinn didn't have much to say to that, and she completed her task silently, withholding the urge to thank Rachel for being so understanding. It was probably lingering relief at finally emptying her bladder; it'd pass. The best Rachel got was being asked if she needed to go, too.

She did, and Quinn went as far as to close her eyes while facing the opposite direction.

"Are you tired?"

"Are you?"

Rachel shrugged. "A little," she supposed. She didn't usually go to bed before midnight on the weekends but after everything that'd happened, it felt later than eleven o'clock. Traditional sleepover activities would have been brought up if she didn't know any better than to ask. Quinn didn't seem in the mood. She was probably tired because of the baby. Rachel snuck a long look at her in the mirror as she washed her hands. "Should we go to bed? I mean, I don't see us getting out of these cuffs unless we pay a visit to Kurt or the cops, and I don't see Kurt agreeing."

Quinn sucked in a deep breath and tried to swallow the phrasing of that particular question. The truth was she was exhausted. Lately there hadn't been a time past eight p.m. that she wanted to be anywhere but in a comfortable, warm bed. Not always necessarily to sleep, but to relax. Sharing one with Rachel hadn't been on her to-do list for the weekend, or ever, and she briefly considered how strange it would feel to sleep next to her. "I guess," she agreed. "If you want to."

Knowing how vocal Quinn was about anything she didn't want to do, Rachel read between the lines. She had plenty of songs on her iPod or books she could read if need be. As long as Quinn was okay.

It was decided —by Rachel— that she would complete her nightly hygiene routine fist, and then Quinn. If there was ever a show requiring her character to only have use for one hand, this was great practice. Sure everything took a little longer, but she had nowhere to be. Some tasks, however, required the use of both hands. She'd ridded her face of the small amount of makeup she'd been wearing, brushed her teeth and then used her favoured face scrub to clean her pores of the day's dirt before she needed the other hand.

They compromised. Rachel followed Quinn to the tub and sat beside her on the edge while she flossed. Quinn held the weight of her own hand in the air instead of keeping it as a dead weight, only sighing once when she was asked to look at Rachel's teeth.

"No."

"I can't see the mirror from here."

"You've been flossing for like an hour; you've probably scraped away half your gum line by now."

"I need the mirror," Rachel declared after knowing Quinn wasn't going to be any help. She sure was grumpy when she was tired. Leaning to the left, Rachel was able to drop the line of floss into the small trash can before getting up and tipping forward, wrapping her arm around Quinn's waist. "Do you need any help?" she asked, already pulling.

Quinn, full-faced with what felt like a mane of hair, shook her head away from it and grunted when there was a particularly sharp tug on her back. "That hurts," she said, aware of how effective it would be. Rachel's arm dropped instantly, her face contrite.

"Sorry."

Once she was upright again, Quinn wondered how she would manage to go to bed without having any of the necessities with her. Her train of thought was derailed moments later when she felt the offending spot on her back being rubbed.

"I once read that massage therapy for healing purposes is frowned upon by some doctors, which is so stupid because when something hurts, what's the first thing you do?" Rachel fired out, her hand moving in gentle circles. "With the correct technique, rubbing the same spot is pretty much guaranteed to bring relief. How does this feel?"

"Like you're getting on my last nerve," Quinn muttered, pulling away from the touch. "Are you done?" she asked, referring to her nightly routine.

"I just have to wash my face."

She wouldn't admit it, but there had been a couple of instances where she'd been forgetful during her pregnancy, unable to remember simple things, but she definitely remembered Rachel washing her face. "You did that."

Rachel turned the faucet on high, letting the cold water run until it was freezing. She held her pinky finger underneath it to gage when the temperature was acceptable. "Not with cold water." Ice water was always preferred but it seemed like too much trouble right now.

Quinn stared. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Doing what?" The visibly growing irritation was enough for Rachel to get a clue. Quinn was clearly desperate to get into bed. "I'll just be a minute. I'm sorry if I get your hand all wet."

Despite Rachel taking the utmost care not to do so, Quinn's left hand dipped into the water on several occasions. She'd had to fight a gasp each time. How Rachel threw that kind of water against her face each night was beyond her.

The towel was within reach. Quinn grabbed it and held it out for when Rachel was ready. It didn't take much longer and then Rachel was riffling through the cabinet, smiling when her search proved to be successful.

She thrust out a neon green toothbrush still in its packaging. "I don't usually have a spare but last time it was buy one get one free at the store, so I switched my regular brand in favour of this. It's still a reputable company, so I think it'll be okay. Lucky for you, right?"

"Yeah."

Quinn's distracted, flat tone did little to deter Rachel's enthusiasm. "Probably another example of my sixth sense."

"Yeah."

The toothbrush wasn't taken, so Rachel ripped the packing away. "Do you want me to put the toothpaste on?"

Quinn finally looked at her. "What am I going to wear?"

"What?"

"To sleep in."

"Oh. Um—" All of the tops Rachel had in her closet didn't leave much room for a baby bump in them. "My Dads will have something you could borrow. An old college shirt? Clean," she added with a teasing lilt to her voice. "I promise."

God, that would be so weird.

"Maybe I'll sleep in what I have on."

"It's your choice, but I think you'll be more comfortable in a t-shirt. You'll get into my shorts."

Apparently things could get weirder. Quinn didn't want to do either of those things but she knew how disturbed her sleep was lately without the added discomfort of trying to sleep in regular clothes. She shrugged with an inconvenienced roll of her eyes; at their so-called friends and how none of them had any forethought to consider how their shenanigans might affect her. Finn could have made himself useful by packing her an overnight bag at the absolute least.

Bitterness aside, she remembered that nobody had planned on forcing her and Rachel together tonight, it only happened because Puck decided to snoop.

At last, Quinn agreed softly. She was sure Rachel would be kind enough if they didn't fit, she just couldn't deal with anything else. She didn't like to feel embarrassed at the best of times, nevermind seven months pregnant when it would turn her into a weepy mess. "Thanks."

They finished up in the bathroom and Quinn was happy enough to let Rachel walk out of the room first, following behind while something nagged at her. She noticed how the bathroom door squeaked when it was opened and how the light looked in Rachel's bedroom at night; casted brightly to illuminate each corner of the room. The bed looked inviting. Somehow, discovering those small details felt strange. She didn't have much time to reflect on it when she realised they were heading back to Hiram and Leroy's room. There was that nagging feeling again.

"Rachel," Quinn said, her steady walk stopping altogether. "Wait." Following a turn and a patient but expectant lift of brows, she continued, "What's wrong with this scenario?"

"For you, or me?" The answer would be vastly different according to who it was they were going to be discussing.

"We're…cuffed."

"I know."

"So how are we going to change our tops?"

Rachel's mouth opened, presumably to produce a solution, and then promptly closed. She rested her weight on her left foot and stared at Quinn as if she would find the answer there. Stumped, she finally pouted. "That's a snag," she deadpanned. She didn't want to sleep in her clothes either. Now she didn't have a choice.

Quinn pushed a hand through her hair, leaving it tousled and messy. "Great."

"It's just for one night," Rachel reasoned quietly.

However true that was, it meant Quinn wouldn't be sleeping much. Neither would Rachel, because as much as she would like to, there was no going to the bathroom alone and even without drinking anything past eight pm Quinn was up for frequent trips.

It was going to be one incredibly long night.

They had to make a trip downstairs because Rachel didn't like to go to bed without a bottle of water, and Quinn had to find her phone and text her parents so they didn't do anything stupid like report her missing. Rachel also had to find her phone; she'd promised her Dads she would let them know everything was okay after dinner and her rehearsal and had no doubts that they would drive home if they felt something was off.

Quinn's cell was in her purse, but Rachel's proved a tad more difficult to locate.

"I'm sure this is where I left it."

"You said that last time. I'll call it," Quinn grumbled, growing increasingly frustrated after searching half a dozen different places.

"I turned it off before you came over."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to be distracted," Rachel explained, lifting cushions off the couch. This never would have happened if everyone had gone straight down to the basement to rehearse instead of wasting thirty minutes in her living room to flick through music channels and make enough noise that her voice wasn't heard until she'd yelled that they were behind schedule.

Quinn wondered if there was even a force on earth strong enough to break Rachel's focus on performing.

Moments later, Rachel tossed a dress cushion to the floor in some sort of frenzy and released what almost sounded like a huff. Quinn stared at the frown and dipped brows with quiet satisfaction. Finally, a human reaction.

"I know I had it here," Rachel whined. Her bottom lip jutted out while she was deep in thought, mentally retracing her steps of the whole night. She didn't pay any attention to Quinn watching her, and eventually had to accept that she couldn't have used it in there last.

Rachel had been prone to dramatic storm-outs since she was a little girl, even wrecked her room on one occasion. Her favourite posters and memorabilia were unscathed by her fury and she was a little embarrassed about the memory now but she was always reminded of it at times like these; when she had to clean up the mess she made.

"Can I use your phone?" she asked quickly. "I need to tell my Dads I'm okay and that I didn't burn the house down making dinner. If I don't call, they'll come home."

Quinn didn't think she would be able to look at Hiram and Leroy in the eyes ever again after this shit fest. "Yeah, but I don't have unlimited minutes so make it quick."

"Of course. Two ticks."

As Rachel haphazardly threw a cushion back on the couch, Quinn followed it with a curious pull of her brows. She moved closer and picked it up a little uncertainly, turning it over to examine the other side. They were both flat. Rachel threw another cushion and Quinn shadowed her, lifting it as soon as it was down.

Rachel saw her examining the newest additions to the Berry household and smiled faintly; glad she was taking an interest. Her eyes brightened hopefully. "Do you like them? They're new. I helped pick them out."

"My Mom would."

Rachel nodded slowly. She didn't know if that was a backhanded compliment or not. Her eyes left Quinn's face when their free hands made contact, dropping to where Quinn also held the final cushion. It was perhaps unnecessary for both of them to hold the weight of it, but she wasn't the one tipping it either way to get a good look.

Frustration momentarily forgotten, a small smile tugged at Rachel's mouth. Quinn obviously shared the same opinion about the cushions and was needlessly shy about it. She was too busy thinking about how she found that sort of cute to even consider letting go and breaking their contact.

Quinn's eyes rolled when she spotted a protrusion to the material. She unzipped the cover and reached inside to produce Rachel's phone. It earned a sharp gasp and a hug so fast that she didn't have time to prepare. Or prevent it.

They'd never hugged before. And while Quinn's brief and fumbled touch to Rachel's hip could hardly be defined as reciprocation, it was perhaps the most they'd ever touched before.

"Thank you so much."

"It was probably Santana," Quinn said, frowning at the memory of falling victim to that particular prank last year. Her revenge had been to hijack Santana's phone and paint black nail polish over the screen, dissolving into fits of laughter once her handiwork had been discovered.

Rachel pulled away, pressing her phone close to her chest prior to scrolling through it to see who had tried to contact her in the past couple of hours. There was an encouraging text regarding the rehearsal from Hiram, and one from Brittany. Rachel didn't even bother to read it. If she spoke to Brittany, she'd beg her to get Kurt to give up the key. If she spoke to Brittany, she'd be told no. And Rachel hated to hear that word.

Her thumbs moved quickly, firing off a message of reassurance to her loving parents within seconds.

Quinn slowly began to forget how Rachel felt against her and sucked in a breath, sliding her own phone out from her pocket to pull up her father's text thread. Her thumb hovered over the screen, teeth pressing down on her lip. "What'd you say?"

Rachel glanced up. "That everything went great and I'm currently in bed with a scary movie, a bowl of pretzels and some floss."

Quinn smiled, and her eyes shined like maybe she'd wanted to laugh, too. She didn't know if Rachel had ever lied to her parents before but she didn't seem the type to. "Honesty's your policy," she nodded. "Okay."

"And then I added that it was scarier watching when they weren't in the house."

"That was cheap."

"But effective." Rachel read a new message. "Daddy said they're both sorry they're not here tonight, and will make it up to me. Also, that if anyone happened to break into the house my blood curdling scream would scare off even the most terrifying of intruders."

Quinn shook her head. She was sort of impressed, but without time to waste she licked her lips. "Um— what should I tell my parents? Should I say… that I'm staying over?"

"In your condition, it's probably smarter if you don't lie about where you'll be sleeping. So, yes, say you're staying here. Tell them there's a possibility we could go shopping in the morning, but you'll check in or something?"

Quinn nodded and moved her hands closer together to be able to type with both thumbs. It was sent. She only asked because her parents had some difficulty in believing her whereabouts beyond a certain time of night without proof. They still weren't overjoyed to be getting their first grandchild, but they worried for Quinn and became concerned whenever she wasn't safe and sound at home or out with friends who could be trusted to look out for her.

Finn still wasn't allowed over at the house.

Quinn felt better having told her father the truth, or close to it anyway. Some things were best kept from her parents; instances like this for example. Russell would drive right over with a pair of bolt cutters he kept in the garage. He would also hold this whole mess against Rachel when she had nothing to do with it. Quinn could imagine sitting at the table for lunch on Sunday, proclaiming his dislike for the girl. He hadn't said a word about Rachel since he found out that she was in the same club as his daughter, and asked if she was the one with those two sissies for parents. Quinn remembered her bite of food going down unpleasantly but nodding. They'd gone onto something else entirely; a family vacation, when she spoke again, a soft chastise that he shouldn't say things like that. Russell had laughed and sipped at his wine, apologising for not being PC in his own home.

Quinn didn't say anything to him after that.

She wondered if Rachel's Dads had a pair of bolt cutters. She should ask. She _could _ask. But she didn't. Her phone sounded, and she groaned.

Upon hearing it, Rachel glanced away from her phone where she'd just finished saying goodnight to her parents. Quinn turned her head to look at her, her face equally as dissatisfied as the sound she'd just produced.

"They don't believe me," she grumbled. "They think I'm at Finn's. It's ridiculous."

"Well, you are pregnant."

"So?"

"So… a Friday night and you happen to text them with the unexpected news that you're out for the whole night, it's not exactly a leaped conclusion."

Quinn's mouth opened in a soft gasp, and the offense she took from that comment was manifested with a pull of her brows. "I'm not a slut."

It was said with such conviction and Rachel was clueless as to how Quinn had translated her remark to mean that she was loose like that. "I didn't say you were!"

"You meant it."

"I did not. But you can— sleep with whoever you want, as many times as you want. Girls don't have to be so ashamed or embarrassed for enjoying a healthy sex life. It's a natural—"

A blush crept up over Quinn's face. "I…had sex once," she bit out, "and I have this to show for it. I'm not anticipating a repeat performance ever again."

"Ever again?" Rachel only smiled because Quinn looked so serious about it.

"I'm serious."

"What does Finn have to say about that?"

"Who cares what Finn has to say? It's my body."

Rachel seemed to shake out of her stupor. "Of course, I just meant… I don't know."

Quinn ran a tongue over her lips and watched Rachel regard her apologetically. She didn't know why she was going to give the girl a break, but her mouth opened anyway. "Finn's not—" The theme song for Jaws cut in and Quinn stared at her phone with sudden disdain.

"Who's calling?"

"My Dad."

Rachel's eyes widened when she saw Quinn's thumb heading towards the reject button. "You can't screen it!"

"I don't want to deal with him, right now."

"You're vulnerable like this, and you're in my care. If he thinks I'm keeping you from the phone he's going to drive over here and kill me."

"I can take care of myself, I'm not an invalid," Quinn protested. "And my Dad wouldn't touch you." She gave Rachel a strange look. "It's not like _you_ got me pregnant."

"Yes, but still!" Rachel rushed out, darting her free hand out to snatch the ringing phone. "Hello?" She turned abruptly to avoid Quinn's attempt to get it back. "Mr. Fabray?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Yeah—yes, sir, this is Rachel Berry." Rachel lifted her elbow higher to block another attack. "Quinn is right here," she confirmed. "Safe and sound, so please don't worry. Yeah, my Dads are in the next room, would you like to speak with them?"

Quinn's eyes bulged and she pressed more firmly against Rachel's back, reaching through the gap in her arm. She'd touched her fingers to the phone when Rachel doubled over and brought her arm down tightly, trapping Quinn's hand. It felt suspiciously like the swell of her breast and Quinn wrenched her hand free like it'd been burned.

"Give me the phone."

Of course Russell would decline. Rachel had only ever seen him out in town; she'd never met him or been formally introduced, but judging from those instances it was a safe bet to assume that he wouldn't wish to speak with her fathers. Why did Quinn doubt her?

"Quinn has everything she needs for a comfortable night's stay here," Rachel said easily, listening to a deep voice fire off another somewhat stilted question her way. "We're about to watch a movie and go to bed. I have a bet with Daddy that Quinn won't make it even halfway; her eyes are very telling." Rachel chuckled. "I've noticed that."

"What?" Quinn demanded, unable to catch what had been said about her.

Russell hadn't quite joked with her —simply said how stubborn his daughter could be, but Rachel thought it would be best to be as pleasant as she possibly could with him. No longer sensing a threat, she straightened up and stepped back to risk a glance to the main topic of conversation.

The consternation of Quinn's face was almost cute.

"No, she's no trouble at all. We love having her here." A placating smile came to her mouth. "I won't leave her side until she's standing on your driveway tomorrow. Okay, yeah. Of course. It's entirely my pleasure. Please call if you have any other concerns, my Dads would be happy to put your mind at ease. Have a good night, sir. Okay, bye." Rachel extended the phone toward its owner, a lightness radiating off from her in the process.

Quinn ripped the phone from her hand, a steely gaze trapping her victim until she directed it across the room instead. "Hello?" she said softly into the phone. "Yeah, so now do you believe me?" Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth for a second. "Just Rachel. She asked last night, and I forgot to tell you."

Rachel had started to notice the way Quinn said her name sometimes; almost in a soft drawl. She liked it.

Listening to Quinn apologise and promise her father that she would be home tomorrow was perhaps more surreal than being handcuffed to her. Quinn's voice went soft and yielding in a way that Rachel had never quite heard before and it brought forth a strange surge of protectiveness within her. She almost wished she'd hung up on Mr. Fabray.

The call ended, and Quinn looked at her. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"I was avoiding a crisis. It's what I do."

"You steered us towards a brick wall."

"You were going to screen your Dad's call, and he was clearly worried about you. Ignoring it would have been the disaster."

"Let's just— go get your water," Quinn said, changing the subject altogether before it turned into a battle.

"Are you okay?" Rachel voiced softly when they were halfway through to the kitchen.

"Does it matter?"

"I wouldn't have asked if it didn't."

Quinn dropped the defensiveness for the moment. She reasoned that she hadn't exactly done much to earn the concern directed at her, so throwing it back in Rachel's face was probably not the best reaction she could have.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"If you wanted to talk about anything…" Rachel jingled the cuffs. "Well, I'm right here, so."

"Okay."

x x x x

They were in the bedroom.

Rachel decided to take off her yoga pants in favour of some shorts and then set out to complete the most time-consuming application of lotion Quinn had ever witnessed. Acknowledging that took a while because other than trying to make a decision on whether or not she would ask to borrow some loose pants or shorts to sleep in, the actual logistics of where they would sleep hadn't been figured out yet.

Maybe Rachel wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor.

The cap to the bottle of moisturiser squeaked when it was clipped shut, bringing Quinn back to the moment. The bed shook with a forceful shake of Rachel's arm which sent globs of lotion to the top of the bottle where it was more easily squeezed out. The cap squeaked louder when it was opened.

After a second, Rachel felt Quinn staring at her and turned her head. She stuck out the hand with the lotion on and wasn't offended by the soft decline, even flashed a disarmingly shy smile as she finished up her nightly routine.

The scent of it was familiar and agreeable to Quinn, and she could recall smelling it whenever Rachel was around but never making the connection before. She wondered if it was like when she'd force herself not to correlate the memorabilia in Rachel's house and bedroom to movies and songs she stumbled across in her spare time. That would mean being reminded about Rachel far more than she wanted to be.

"So, why do you think the club is under the impression that we hate each other?" Rachel voiced candidly, unprompted.

"I don't know."

"I mean, we've never had a physical altercation, and I'm pretty sure we've never screamed at each other in the middle of a hallway so it doesn't make sense. Do you agree?"

"Yeah."

"Are you listening to me?"

Quinn's mouth ticked upwards. "Unfortunately."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to be serious."

"Such a change of pace for you, Berry."

"Sure we've had one or two _disagreements_, but to flat out assume that we hate each other?"

"To be fair, nobody said that," Quinn conceded, adjusting the pillow behind her back to relieve the ache. "They said something about you creating needless drama and bringing a noticeable tension to the group."

"They did not."

"It's what I heard."

"You heard wrong," Rachel protested vehemently. "If anyone is to blame for this, it's you a-and your paranoia that everyone is out to get you, and that I couldn't possibly ever be trying to help you."

Quinn frowned when the tables had been turned. How Rachel could blame her for this was unbelievable. The cuff felt tighter than ever. "You used me going into labour as a disaster scenario, and then said I was the size of a house. How did that help me?"

A number of sentences lodged in Rachel's throat in her haste to get them out. She struggled for a moment, her face contorting. "What?" she finally settled on, sounding it out clear and slow. Seeing as it took her so long to be able to speak, she didn't stop there. "How did you get that from what I actually said? All I meant was that we needed to be prepared in case it happened. I don't want that to be the thing we're remembered for, that's all. If the guys are prepared, they won't freak out as much when you finally do go into labour. None of us will. We'll be able to help you. That is, assuming you're not around your family when it happens."

The words sank in gradually. Quinn gave a stubborn lift of her shoulders. "And the house comment?"

Rachel made a mistake by laughing softly, simply because the idea of her being so cruel was so foreign. There was no truth to base that insult from. There was no way Quinn would ever be anything but frustratingly beautiful to her, whichever size she happened to wear. Taking what she sensed to be the sting away, Rachel's free hand trapped Quinn's in a gentle hold.

"I promise, I would never say that. I wouldn't even think it."

Rachel's earlier words came back more accurately, and Quinn still wouldn't budge. "You said it wasn't like anyone could forget I was pregnant."

"Because you look stunning," Rachel explained sincerely, her eyes roaming the beauty beside her. "I know— maybe you didn't plan to be pregnant until you were a little older, and please don't tell an adult I said this, but it suits you, Quinn." She looked into sharp eyes which softened some. "You're so pretty." Rachel smiled flirtatiously from under her lashes, unaware she was doing such a thing. "I've always thought so." Quinn swallowed and gave a lick of her lips, and Rachel followed the movement with her eyes. They darted back up. "Okay?"

"Okay."

Rachel almost wished their friends were there to witness this; them actually having a moment. They could shove her accusation where the sun didn't shine. Quinn was her friend, and she respected the girl for many different things. A misunderstanding in her basement didn't change that. When Rachel first heard about Finn and Quinn's predicament from a nervous announcement in front of the entire club, she'd been so shocked that she didn't actually say a word for the remainder of the lesson. The only time Rachel was ever really quiet was when she was stunned into silence.

She'd been worried. Selfishly and selflessly. For more than a split second she had wondered what that meant for the choir she loved so much, but then the concern was focused on her friends. How they would cope with this, how they even got themselves into the mess in the first place. It was fairly obvious, even for Rachel, but for them not to use protection?

Finn, Rachel would understand on some level. Not completely, because he wasn't a total idiot, but some. Quinn? Well, Rachel didn't understand at all. Quinn never made a decision that wasn't calculated. Nothing about her personality told Rachel that she was impulsive. Every action and spoken word had a purpose. So, why was she lying there at sixteen years-old with a baby bump?

"Are we friends?" Rachel asked. "I mean, I consider you one of mine, so I just… I guess what I'm asking is, do you consider me one of yours?"

Quinn didn't like when Rachel did this. It made her nervous. "Why?"

"Because friends ask each other personal questions, and I wanted to know if it was okay that I did."

"You're going to ask me regardless of my answer."

Rachel couldn't refute the claim, and didn't even try. "I've been wondering for a long time, you and Finn, why you didn't… use protection. It just doesn't seem like a decision you'd make. You're smarter than that." She couldn't tell if that was what Quinn was expecting her to say, but still felt the need to add, "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping some kind of line. I was just curious."

Quinn breathed out an air of laughter. When didn't Rachel cross the line to make her embarrassed? "Good job you're not a cat," she remarked, not expecting the smile she received. "I don't know." Quinn's hand rested over her protruding belly unthinkingly. "It wasn't planned. I didn't invite him over to get me pregnant. My parents were away, and I'd been going through some stuff. I was upset about something so I called Finn, asked him to come over, and then… we ended up in my bed," she said, frowning like she didn't find too much joy in the memory. "We were kissing, and that was okay. He was— he didn't push me for anything. But I wanted him to. I wanted to feel what it was like to want a guy like that, and it's not like I thought— I didn't think I would actually get pregnant. That happens to idiots, people in movies, not me. Finn, he said we should stop, and that maybe I wasn't thinking clearly." Quinn sighed, rolling her eyes at her own stupidity. "And then I touched him, and he didn't want to stop anymore."

"And he didn't have a condom either?" Rachel didn't sound like she was judging. She knew better. She'd never had Quinn open like this before and she wouldn't chance her closing up for anything.

Quinn managed to smile. "We were both in Celibacy Club, condoms weren't something we had to worry about. All I thought about was the usual stuff, but I knew we were both each other's…there was nobody else."

That made some sense to Rachel, even if she did believe in preparedness. "I have some in my drawer. If you want to take some, you can."

Was that Rachel's adult version of a goodie bag? Quinn dreaded to think. It was almost funny that the least popular girl in school and complete opposite of a guy magnet was offering her condoms as if she was going to hop right back on Finn, or any boy in the foreseeable future.

"That is never going to happen again."

Rachel wanted to press, but she didn't. "If you change your mind."

"I won't."

"If you do."

It went quiet, and Quinn wasn't thinking about how strange it was to share anything with Rachel, she was thinking about something much stranger. "Why do _you _have them?"

"What?"

"Condoms. Who are you… are you sleeping with someone?"

Rachel smiled. "No."

Quinn gave her a doubtful lift of her eyebrows. "No?"

"No."

"You're planning to," she almost accused.

"Not exactly."

"So, why do you have them? That's like buying beer without planning on drinking it."

Rachel looked entirely unconvinced. Next to Quinn, she crossed her legs at the ankles and folded an arm behind her head. "I'm not saying it's your fault, but personally I've always thought that girls should be just as prepared as guys when it comes to contraception and sex. I don't want to get caught out, or put myself in a situation I'm not ready to be in. I know…that things just happen," she said, searching for eye contact. "I know the chances of having sex tonight with my parents away would be significantly higher if I was in bed with someone I really liked."

Quinn's face contorted, she couldn't help it. Brows dipped, she turned her head. Once they started, the images wouldn't stop.

"But luckily it's just you," Rachel smiled fondly. After a second she translated that look plastered to Quinn's face to be insulted, and she tried to backtrack. "Not that you're 'just' anything, or that I'm not happy to have you here in my bed because I am. The circumstances are entirely different, is all."

"Yeah," Quinn forced out, red in the face. "Completely."

Rachel was still smiling. "Totally."

Quinn wasn't going to put Puck Junior in a box. No, she was going to put it in a goddamn blender.

"So, you're cool to sleep on the floor, right?" Quinn asked, steering the conversation away from sex and the idea of them having it. Together. Right in that bed. Rachel peered across at her oddly, and to be perfectly honest, Quinn didn't care that she'd offended her. She couldn't _sleep _next to Rachel after that. Not after anything. She was still being gawked at. "What?"

"Why were you upset?"

"What?"

"That night you and Finn…were close, you said that you were upset about something. What was it?"

This was fucking torture. Nevermind being handcuffed to the girl, she had to actually sit there and listen to it. Quinn's hand abandoned her belly in favour of the covers, palming it in a slow draw of her fingers until it was bunched in her hand. She was momentarily distracted from her discomfort by how soft the covers were.

Indifference radiated from her tone when she claimed to not remember, that it didn't matter anymore.

"I haven't seen you lose it for no reason," Rachel treaded cautiously. "Maybe it still matters."

On the list of things Quinn had to worry about right now, that particular reason didn't even place. She worried for Beth, and that was it. Beth was number one through a thousand. It was exhausting enough; she didn't need to add any selfish concerns to that list. "It doesn't."

"Well, if you did want to talk about it…" she trailed off. Rachel was going to leave it, but she realised that she couldn't do so quite as easily. "I'm a great secret keeper, a-and it would be a great show of trust that we could throw in the group's collective faces the next time we see them. Not to mention a perfect opportunity for bonding. I could share some of my troubles first, if you want?"

"I want you to share where you plan on sleeping."

"Where do you want me to sleep?

Why that was even a question… "On the floor."

"Okay, I'm sleeping on the floor," Rachel said easily, making a smooth transition to serious. "My biggest fear right now is not beating Vocal Adrenaline. They're our toughest competition, and if we don't beat them this year when I feel we're peaked as a team, then how are we ever going to do it? And how am I supposed to expect any college take me seriously as a performer when I don't have a trophy like Nationals under my belt? I know you guys don't appreciate the extra rehearsals, especially on a Friday night, but I count on them. All of this is kind of shaping my entire future, so if I fail now…"

"You're not going to fail," Quinn responded evenly.

"You don't know that."

"I know that."

"How?" Rachel pressed.

"I just do, so stop worrying about it."

She began to smile. "If you didn't sound so annoyed, I'd think you were being nice to me, Quinn."

It was frustratingly infectious, though Quinn managed to contain it for the most part. "I am being nice."

Rachel continued to stare at her. "You could tell me what it was, you know. I would never judge you," she added at the resulting groan. "Everyone has their issues, it's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"My issue is you."

Rachel wasn't sure why Quinn flushed at that only seconds later, her teeth pressed together while she adjusted her head on the pillow, but Rachel was sure she wanted Quinn to open up to her. She wanted to know her better. "I can tell that it's running through your mind right now," she claimed boldly. "Would it really be so hard to just tell me?"

"Rachel."

There was that low drawl again. "Yes?"

"Shut up," Quinn deadpanned. "Go to bed, and stop annoying me."

Rachel concluded that this was notthe best time to have Quinn share all of her deep, dark secrets with her. Or, more accurately, that it _was_, but it wasn't like Quinn was going to budge so she would drop it before they had another one of their disagreements. With a loll of her head, she stared over at her walk-in closet. It looked so far away and she was so comfortable beside Quinn. Unfortunately, the likelihood of staying there was slim. "You need to come with me."

"What?"

"To the closet," Rachel elaborated slowly, because it should have been obvious. In her opinion, anyway. She tended to get a bit of an attitude when she was disappointed.

Quinn sat up straight upon hearing that, her fingers accidentally splaying across Rachel's when she tried to brace her weight in order to kneel and move from the bed. It was their cuffed hands, so she couldn't do much about it other than get distracted enough to almost tumble right into Rachel's lap.

Everything was beginning to get to her. Rachel had seemingly struck a nerve by prying.

The spare blankets and bed linen were at the top of the closet. Rachel had to stand on her toes to reach to the back of it, but she always managed. Unthinkingly, Quinn stretched up and completed the task for her. She wanted to get to bed sooner rather than later.

"You shouldn't be stretching," Rachel chastised listlessly as Quinn checked the pile currently resting in her arm for a pillow. "I could have done it myself. Despite what people say, I'm not dwarfed."

Petulantly, Quinn lifted the pile of blankets from Rachel's hold and shoved them in the closet, further back than they'd been. "Fine, you do it."

"That was mature."

"No, you were right; I shouldn't be stretching."

Rachel almost bit through her tongue not to add any fuel to the fire. She wasn't going to rise to it, however much the shift of atmosphere had thrown her. Her eyes dropped to the floor and she used her foot to reposition a box closer to her. She stepped up onto it and reached up for the blankets and pillows she would need for the night. Rachel had them in her hand and was in the process of drawing her arm back towards her when her foot went through the box, dropping her back down half a foot. The suddenness of it was enough to send her stumbling, and she instinctively reached out to the closest solid object: Quinn.

Quinn's arm fastened around her while her trapped foot added another element of instability, causing Rachel to sway precariously even while her hand fisted the material covering Quinn's back.

She stumbled backwards and slammed against the closet door. It was mildly painful, but at least she didn't break anything. At least Quinn didn't fall.

Quinn stood between her legs, one hand braced on the clothes railing and the other on the door beside Rachel. The speed she'd had to flatten her palm against the door was probably enough to hurt Rachel's knuckles, but she didn't care because Rachel was too close and she was staring right back at her. If she took one step forward, she'd be pressed right up against her.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. Are you okay?" Rachel couldn't help but notice the subtle increase of Quinn's breaths.

"I would be," Quinn growled out, pushing as far away from Rachel Berry as she could get in their current condition. "If you'd stop being such a freak."

"It was an accident."

"Story of your life," she spat without really thinking, and not meaning it once the words registered. Stubbornness refused to take them back, but they settled heavily in her throat. She leaned down to pick up the fallen bedding and made her way back over to the bed without another word, dropping the pillow next to the bed where Rachel would be sleeping.

Rachel gave the side of Quinn's face the evil eye. "You're such a dragon when you're moody," she griped.

"What can I say; you bring it out in me." Quinn continued throwing items of bedding down until there was a vague and messy outline of a bed made up on the floor. "There. Try not to break our necks getting into it."

Rachel's legs folded underneath her as she crawled into bed as best she could with one arm raised in the air. "Had you not acted like a child, I wouldn't have had to resort to a flimsy box where I could have easily slashed our chances of winning Regionals."

Quinn settled down in Rachel's bed, lying close to the edge. The softness surrounding her was unlike the hard edge of her voice. "Yeah, because I was helping and you threw it back in my face."

Rachel would inwardly concede that perhaps the words hadn't come out as she'd meant them, but the fact remained that she _had _been concerned. She still felt like she was the one owed an apology. "I was concerned."

"You were a bitch."

The light flicked off and Rachel listened to the rustle of the sheets as Quinn moved around in her bed. Her eyes stayed open. How dare Quinn be as bold as to say that? "As I'm putting a roof over your head for the night, I'd appreciate a little less of your tongue," Rachel said snippily. "Unless you're actually going to act like a human being, which I doubt, or unless you're offering thanks."

"Thanks," Quinn answered flatly a moment later. She couldn't help it. It was a good job she couldn't see Rachel; the perpetual glint of self-righteousness in her brown eyes usually made Quinn want to strangle her.

"I'm not a kitten, you know. If you insist on provoking me, I will pounce on you."

"That a threat?"

"Fair warning."

Quinn stifled a smile. She was so ridiculous. "Well, that's… given me a lot to think about, Rachel."

"I would hope so," Rachel commented softly. She didn't _like _their disagreements. She wasn't even completely sure how their amicable chat had turned into such a sour fest. Maybe they were both just tired. She could admit to being somewhat grumpy after a certain point at night, and she couldn't imagine how tired Quinn must be after carrying a baby around all day. It would be like someone continually draining your battery. Slowly, Rachel came to the conclusion that Quinn's moods were justified.

She didn't want to break a long stretch of silence with an apology that may not be accepted anyway, so she tried to adjust to being on the floor. It certainly wasn't as comfortable as she knew it would be in the morning when it was time to get up from it. A couple of hours and she'd be used to it.

Rachel guessed that around thirty minutes had passed since they last exchanged words.

Quinn's tossing and turning had been disrupting her. It was strange to be hearing any noises other than those made by herself, and even stranger to think about who it was that was actually making them. Rachel's arm was tugged on as Quinn moved again, and she let it slide. Quinn's soft sigh cut through the quiet a moment later.

"Can you please be quiet?" Rachel asked gently. "I'm not used to putting up with anybody else's habits and you're making quite a bit of noise, so."

"I'm trying to get comfortable." To be fair, it wasn't so much the bed as the near constant ache to her back. Rachel's comment sank in a little further, and she recalled an earlier one. "And you talk about dragons? You're breathing like one."

"Quinn, please, if either of us is a mouthbreather, it's you."

"Don't start."

Rachel flexed her fingers, trying to ignore the ache to her shoulder from keeping her arm up in the air as she'd been doing to make Quinn more comfortable. "I asked nicely, you're the one getting mad," she countered, mindful to keep her voice light as she'd intended her earlier request.

"I'm not mad, you're just annoying."

"And you're the perfect guest?"

"No," Quinn admitted, contrite, "but I was at least trying to be considerate. My eyes were finally heavy when you opened your mouth." It was true, and now she'd have to start all over again. "If I was mad, I would have asked you what you thought was in your Dads' sex box."

Horrible, scarring images assaulted Rachel's mind without a moment's notice. She closed her eyes and tried to shake them away. She really didn't ever want to think about her parents like that. "And if I was really being annoying, I'd probably ask if you thought your parents had a box of their own."

There was silence, and then Quinn shifted again. "I hate you in every conceivable way."

Rachel couldn't seeit, but she'd swear there was a smile in there somewhere.

They slipped back into silence, aware of each other. Even without any noise at all and her eyes closed, Rachel could tell she wasn't alone. The room felt different. She thought about how funny that was, strange, and wondered if Quinn would ever agree to this again, sans the handcuffs and bickering. She'd been sincere with her earlier confusion on the team's collective consensus that she and Quinn hated each other. How could she possibly. Sure, Quinn had perfected the art of getting under her skin in a very short amount of time, and she was sure it was the same for Quinn and how easily she seemed to piss her off, but it wasn't like it ever stuck. Nothing ever caused Rachel to not want the absolute best for her, or stop believing in her potential. Quinn needed a little more patience and understanding than the rest of her friends, but then again, Rachel guessed that that was the case for her, too. They had a lot in common. Too much to hate each other.

Rachel thought they had a lot more in common than that, she was simply waiting for Quinn to prove her right.

Listening to Quinn's breathing pattern eventually sent her hurtling towards the land of nod herself. She was positive she'd been asleep for at least several minutes when Quinn's voice pulled her away from it. Rather than being annoyed, Rachel was curious. She kept her eyes closed but turned her head. "What?"

"You can sleep with your arm up like that?"

Rachel cleared her throat quietly and purposefully kept her voice soft. "I once… fell asleep for six minutes while waiting in line for tickets. This is no problem."

Quinn wasn't an idiot; Rachel sounded half-asleep and was more than likely only responding out of politeness rather than actual interest, but she couldn't find a comfortable position on her back and it was, frankly, a little disconcerting to be alone in a room with Rachel without hearing her voice. A darkened room, no less.

She lowered her arm some, allowing Rachel's shoulder a little rest even if she did insist that it was okay. "What tickets?"

"Hmm?"

Quinn spoke louder. "You were waiting for tickets."

"Oh, yeah, for the Christmas pantomime last year." Rachel slowly gained more awareness that she was having what could pass as a civil conversation, and woke up a little more.

"You celebrate Christmas?"

"Every other year," she shared. "We have a system."

"Oh." Quinn thought she should have known that about Rachel, but it made more sense that she didn't. She craned her neck to look down to the floor, spotting a big lump under the covers that she guessed to be Rachel. No wonder she sounded so strange; half of her face was covered by the blanket. Quinn spent a moment looking at her. "How was it? The show."

"It was okay. I may have made some different acting choices than Jessa Barnette —the leech who doesn't even go to our school but steals almost every role I try out for at the Lima theatre. I guess it wasn't a total disaster. I mean, I didn't walk out halfway through like some shows, and I took a few notes. I may have also prompted her forgotten line from the audience."

Quinn had never heard of that particular leech before, but she idly wondered who she was and how good her auditions must have been to beat Rachel for a role. She shifted again, brows pulled from a sudden twinge in her lower back. The twist of her body tugged on Rachel's arm, and she apologised.

"You sound wide awake," Rachel noted.

"Yeah."

"It probably doesn't help that we're shackled together like criminals."

"Really doesn't," Quinn responded, not finding too much constriction in them considering how considerate Rachel had been to sleep like she was reaching for the stars. Because of that, she didn't want to lie. "It's— my back, that's all."

Rachel turned over. "It hurts?"

"Most of the day, actually. At night, though, getting comfortable is like hitting the jackpot. I can never find a good spot."

"Maybe you should turn on your side."

Quinn's face softened into a faint smile. She tugged their cuffed wrists. "I've got a Rachel Berry stuck to me," she said. "That, and your bed is like the one from The Princess and the Pea. I have to sleep on the edge or this arrangement doesn't work."

Rachel's computer chair was within reach, so she got up from her makeshift bed to roll it closer. With the blanket, Rachel didn't see any reason why she couldn't snooze in the chair for a couple of hours. Her neck would probably be stiff when she woke up again, but it didn't matter. She curled her legs towards her body and twisted to face the bed.

Quinn asked what she was doing; sounding like she thought Rachel was being an idiot. Sweet, but an idiot. Rachel didn't think it was a big deal. It wasn't like she was switching from luxury, or anything. It wasn't like she remembered how her bed felt anymore.

She was being dramatic. Also, she could tell that after a little while, despite being able to move further across the bed to be in the middle of it, Quinn was still awake. Rachel shifted on the chair and tried not to wince when it creaked loudly. The position was even worse than before but she didn't move again.

"What are you doing?"

Rachel wasn't aware of being watched, but the parroted question was redundant because what else would she be doing other than trying to sleep? "Nothing."

"Seriously."

"Yes, seriously." She frowned. "You're supposed to be sleeping peacefully."

"So are you. Sleeping, anyway."

Now that they were talking, Rachel shifted around in the chair without concern for the noises it made. "I'm just thinking."

Quinn didn't say anything right away, but she finally asked, "About what?"

"What it is that you do on a weekend," Rachel said. "And what you'll do when you're a Mom. Like… like a-a Sunday, you know, when it's warm out, would you take Beth for a walk, or to the park?"

"I don't know," Quinn admitted, breathy like she hadn't expected that at _all_. "Maybe."

"You still like that name, right?"

Quinn wasn't sure how Rachel remembered that from the one time she and Finn had been discussing baby names in the choir room before rehearsal, but it was true that Finn's suggestion was kind of perfect. She'd fallen in love with the name instantly. "Yeah."

In some ways, talking about what she would do on a Sunday with her daughter felt more personal than when Rachel was asking about her sex life. She hadn't talked about Sunday plans with anyone yet, not even with Finn.

Rachel didn't appear to notice the lack of response for her initial question. She carried on, undeterred. "I suppose Finn would like you all to go to some sporting events when she's old enough. And I'm sure Beth would look cute in a baby-sized jersey."

Quinn smiled at that. Beth was going to look cute in anything. She thought about Finn, and of how grateful she was to be doing this whole thing with him. He was reliable and supportive, and he would be a good father. She knew she didn't have to worry about anything else pulling his attention away from his responsibilities.

"Maybe," Quinn said. "He might like it to just be the two of them, though. A bonding thing."

They both squinted when Rachel switched the lamp on with no warning.

"Some of my favourite trips as a child were ones where my Dads would take me to a baseball game, or something. We'd get really into it. I'm sure Finn would want you there. The whole family, I mean. It's—"

"Finn isn't my boyfriend."

Rachel's lips parted at the revelation. "What?" she finally said.

"We're not together like that anymore."

Almost as if it she had been personally —and greatly— offended herself, lines appeared on Rachel's head and her voice hardened. "Why?" Her eyes widened. "Did he break up with you? Because I will have words with him, Quinn. I can't believe he would actually _do_ something like this." In the midst of fuming, she noted that her anger was currently a one-woman show. God, Quinn must be devastated. She deflated. "I'm really sorry. But you know, you… you don't have to worry about anything because we're all banding together to help you anyway. It was supposed to be a surprise, but we're devising a schedule so that one of us will always be free to help out in any way that you need. Yeah, errands o-or homework, or even babysitting if you just need a couple of hours to yourself. Whatever you need."

Quinn slowly began to smile; a bewildered one. She looked tired and mildly confused, but also content. It was different to how she looked at school, and Rachel had a hard time looking anywhere else.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Friends support each other." Rachel rolled her eyes and lifted her cuffed wrist. "When they're not being idiots."

After that discovery, Quinn would have to rethink maiming any of them. She could still chew them out for doing this, but she didn't know if she would. She was so busy being touched by the news that she forgot to correct Rachel in thinking that Finn had abandoned her while she was heavily pregnant.

If she didn't amend it, it was highly likely that Rachel would cause a scene in the hallway on Monday. First thing, if she knew her at all.

"So, Finn," Quinn began, "he didn't break up with me. It was a mutual decision; one that neither of us took lightly. It was a big deal, and we didn't rush into it."

Rachel's resentment towards her co-captain and friend disappeared as if it had never been there, but she couldn't shake the shock. This was huge news. Nothing had been bigger since she found out Quinn was pregnant.

"Wow. And you're… this is what you want?"

"This is what we want," Quinn confirmed. "I love Finn, but I'm not… He's not in love with me, either. And I don't want either of us to feel trapped by obligation. We love our baby and we're going to be there for her in every way that she needs, just not as a couple. His Mom knows, but I'm still…building up to telling mine."

Rachel nodded gently. "I see."

Quinn had been expecting more of a reaction. She couldn't gage Rachel's feelings when she sat there looking like she'd fall off the chair with a poke to the arm. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know. I'm a little thrown."

"Yeah, so Finn's on the market if you— if that interests you."

Rachel's face scrunched. "Quinn."

"He's the leading male," Quinn rationalised. "He's cute, sweet when he wants to be. You're not interested in that?" She looked doubtful indeed.

Rachel considered her words carefully. "In the beginning, I had a crush. For all of the reasons you just listed, with the added factor of his height, but then… then I got to know him, and you, and I realised that I like Finn as a friend. As only a friend. He's also a really great listener, and you know how much I like to talk, so."

"Can't say I've noticed." To her credit, she didn't look as outwardly affected as she was by what had just been said. Watching Finn and Rachel parade around school every day would be a nightmare if she'd ever had one.

"I'm glad we're not fighting anymore."

"It wasn't a fight."

"Well, whatever it was, I'm glad it's over," Rachel said. "And I'm sorry."

Quinn knew Rachel would be the first one to crack, and she was beginning to like being able to predict her like that. "Okay."

Rachel waited, and then waited a moment more while Quinn stretched in her bed. "I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"For your subsequent apology and request for forgiveness."

Quinn smiled. "Good luck with that."

"You're not going to apologise? I thought we were having a moment." Rachel _was _sort of offended but Quinn was still looking at her with the ghost of a smile on her face and she thought that was a pretty okay consolation. She watched Quinn swallow and then reach across her body to pull the covers back.

"You won't be able to move tomorrow if you sleep in that chair," Quinn said evenly.

"You're okay with that?" There was no forthcoming response, which basically translated to Quinn's agreement. She jumped up from the chair and clicked the light off before climbing into bed. It felt even better than ever. "Thank you."

"It's your bed."

"Even so."

"It's fine."

When Rachel stretched her legs out, one of hers slid against Quinn's. She couldn't remember the last time she'd shared a bed but she was certain that it had never been like this. She didn't recall seeing Quinn take off her pants. Maybe she had waited until she was asleep?

Rachel broke their point of contact soon after, and Quinn moved her legs a little further away just to be on the safe side. Then she spoke.

"Do you think I'll go into labour during the competition?"

"I mean, it's possible." Able to tell that it wasn't what Quinn wanted to hear, she added, "But it's possible anywhere. It's not like one time or place is more likely than another. It's gonna happen where it's gonna happen."

"I really don't want to deal with that in front of an audience. People I don't know."

Rachel turned her head on her pillow. "The team will be with you."

"Yeah."

"I'll be with you."

"With your latex gloves?" Quinn smiled, and Rachel's followed.

"Yes."

"You're not going anywhere near there, I'm serious."

"Okay, but I'm holding the hand Finn doesn't have. I had to go to Lamaze classes once, so I'll be able to help you with that."

Why Rachel had attended those classes was completely lost on Quinn, and it showed on her face. "_You _went to Lamaze?"

"Twice. Last summer," Rachel answered lightly.

Quinn actually laughed. "Why?"

Rachel's eyes rolled at the memory. It still grated on her. "My cousin Leon called me out of the blue to say that his wife was under the impression that I didn't like her —which is sort of true but I've never been _obvious _about it, and told me that the only way he would trust my word was if I went to stay with them for a couple of weeks while he had to go away on a business trip. He failed to mention that his wife was heavily pregnant at the time and that I would be her sole caregiver. And have to put together a baby shower," she added, her voice notching higher. She settled back down. "I had to go with her to a couple of classes. I refused to go to a third when she nearly broke my fingers. I'm all for a dramatic performance, but that crossed a line. She acted like Freddy Kruger was coming out down there."

"That's quite a story."

"I have plenty, trust me. She was a complete witch the entire time I was there. The only time she wasn't was when Leon came home. She told him she'd had the best two weeks she'd had in months and that I was welcome back any time I liked." Rachel really didn't like her. "I'm sure _she _had fun; ordering me around like I was a servant."

"Are you going this summer?"

"Oh, no," Rachel replied instantly, turning to find Quinn's face in the dark. "My summer is jam-packed, I made sure."

"With what?"

"I have a lot of sessions booked with my vocal coach. I've been compiling my Myspace videos for him to critique, and I've been preparing songs way out of my comfort zone for Glee next year. I don't want to be singing the same songs over and over again like Mr. Schue. And I have an audition, dance classes, and a two-week visit to see my favourite Grandma. Kurt and Mercedes also mentioned hanging out with me in case the social isolation makes me even weirder."

Quinn had a brief, not unkind thought that Rachel getting weirder was impossible. Looking anywhere else, she noticed a glow-in-the-dark star stuck to the ceiling. Just the one. Quinn remembered having them once, too. When she was five.

She never would have thought that Rachel Berry would have a busier summer than her, and got stuck on that fact for a second. Courtesy of a kick to her insides, she was reminded of how busy she would be. Quinn's hand covered the spot Beth had just been kicking. The first time she felt any movement in there was unreal. It didn't feel like a fluttering right away —and still didn't a lot of the time now, it was more like how her stomach would drop slightly she drove down one of the old, steep roads on the outskirts of town. A small flip to remind her that no matter how alone she would never admit to feeling, she was far from it. Beth had since dropped the subtlety. Now Quinn's insides were kicked and punched at all hours of the day and night, and she knew Beth couldn't feel it but she always put her hands on her stomach and gently rubbed the area until it stopped.

"And I'll be bonding with the newest member of the Glee family," Rachel added. "Babies usually love me. I'm very soothing, so…"

"I'll keep that in mind when she won't stop crying in the middle of the night."

"You should." Rachel kept thinking back to her time in Cleveland with Leon's wife, Kate. She was able to single out one event rather than get caught up in residual bitterness. "Did you have a baby shower?" It was a valid question. Just because she and Quinn happened to carry a civil conversation now didn't mean that they often did, or spend any time together outside of school. They were friends with an unconventional relationship, that's all.

"My parents didn't think it was a good idea. Carole tried to put together a thing for me when she found out. It wasn't what I expected, but it was nice. She brought me some stuff." Quinn got to thinking about Finn's mother. She had been incredible, and easy to talk to. Much easier than her own mother. But just because Judy hadn't been able to see reason for a public affair didn't mean she hadn't brought Quinn the necessities, as well as turn the spare room into a nursery.

"Should I have brought you something?"

"No," Quinn said.

"Why not?"

"We're not friends."

The words hung in the air. Rachel heard them several times, and then thought on their interaction for the past seven or so months. It hadn't always been ideal, she would admit, but some of it had been satisfying and even enjoyable. Tonight, for example. "Aren't we?"

Quinn didn't know what to say to that.

Beth finally stopped kicking, and she decided that she should try and sleep while she could. Before she needed to pee again, or before Rachel started talking again. "We should sleep."

"Do you have any concerns about being a teen Mom?" they said at the same time.

Quinn's sigh never left her mouth. Did she have any concerns about being a teenage mother? Just about a thousand. "I don't know."

"I won't tell anyone."

"The usual stuff, I guess," Quinn admitted after a beat, gruff like she'd wanted to get through that as fast as possible.

"Like what?"

"Like, if she'll ever stop asking questions."

Rachel smiled. "Quinn."

Quinn had always had a hard time expressing herself, showing people she loved them. Her biggest fear was having the same trouble with her daughter and having Beth pick up on it. Surely that would mean a growing resentment as she got older; developing into a slow realisation that she didn't need her mother at all, not when she had her Dad.

"I don't want to talk about this."

Rachel knew how to drop a sore topic, but hearing Quinn afraid, even for a second, she couldn't. She remained careful not to push too hard, treading the thin line between supportive and pushing. "For what it's worth, I think you'll be an amazing Mom; loving and attentive, and so concerned about her wailing in the middle of the night that you'll resort to calling a social pariah. You're a perfectionist, so you'll want to do everything right with her. And I'm sure you'll get trade secrets from Finn's Mom, o-or your Mom. I could ask my Dads anything, as well."

The care in Rachel's voice was tangible and oddly comforting. It always surprised Quinn whenever it was directed at her. "Thanks."

"You'll be her Mom, you know. A good one, so you'll be her safest, most loving place in the world. You'll be her first instinct and response to seeking out love and safety from the moment she's born." She knew that to be true because it was how she felt about both of her fathers. Rachel was curious to see Quinn's interaction with Beth and how motherhood would look on her. She heard a breath of laughter. Quinn actively avoiding any other response, physical or verbal, gave Rachel all the reason she needed to turn on her side and discover how different it felt to be against her body when they were lying down. Her arm crept over Quinn's stomach and she smiled, unable to resist a careful roam. She was kind of fascinated by it.

"Rachel."

She couldn't go ahead and say that the only reason for their current position was because she could tell Quinn needed a hug but would never ask for it, so she settled for a white lie. "I was uncomfortable."

"I know the feeling."

Quinn's voice didn't sound as stiff that time, so Rachel took it as a good sign. "We're handcuffed together; odds are we'll be in this position during the night and possibly when we wake in the morning."

"I don't do sleepovers like this."

"I'm not a boy, and you're already pregnant," Rachel pointed out. A smile pulled at her mouth as her hand moved against the bump. "It's firmer than I thought it would be."

Quinn's hand slipped under the covers and found Rachel's, moving it away from her stomach. "I'm going to start charging people who think it's okay to touch my bump."

"I apologise."

"Good. Move."

Rachel grudgingly rolled away until she was flat on her back again. She hadn't been completely untruthful in saying that she was uncomfortable; she never got a good night's rest unless she fell asleep on her side somewhere in the middle of the bed. Tonight she was constricted with limited mobility unless she wanted to deal with one hacked off Quinn Fabray.

"Sorry," Rachel offered again. "I should have asked first."

Quinn made a non-committal sound of acknowledgement. She could see Rachel looking at her and turned for a second. "I'm going to bed," she announced.

Rachel wanted to point out that they were already in bed, and had been for some time, but Quinn didn't seem like she wanted to debate semantics at this hour, so she let it be. She agreed, instantly quieting to allow Quinn some rest.

Given some time to think about it, her bed was much smaller than it usually felt. It was only because a warm body was lying beside her, she knew, but the discovery was still more than enough to have Rachel overly aware of Quinn and suddenly notice the subtle difference in how the mattress felt underneath with the added weight, how much warmer the bed was, and how, actually, it was kind of nice to have someone to talk to.

Eventually, she couldn't help but consider the possibility of Quinn going into labour during Regionals. Rachel would hope that Beth wouldn't make an appearance until at least after their performance, but then hoping and wishing wouldn't do much good in this case. She wondered what labour felt like. At sixteen, she didn't imagine experiencing that personally until she was thirty or so. Now that she was thinking about it, it was hard to stop —or imagine. Leon's wife, Kate, was a first-time mother so her hysteria in the middle of what was meant to be a soothing class was ridiculous. Almost everyone screamed in the movies or on TV; like it was the most intense pain of their life. With a grimace, Rachel thought about how she would feel if a little body had to be pushed out of _her _body.

Quinn would probably scream. She'd probably bite a lot of heads off, too.

A while later, Rachel couldn't hear the deep breaths to indicate that her roommate for the night was sleeping but it couldn't have anything to do with her because she'd kept ramrod straight ever since abandoning Quinn's side. She'd planned on finding a comfortable position as soon as Quinn was asleep.

"The human body is amazing, isn't it?"

Quinn's eyes flicked open. She'd been moments away from sleep and the abrupt noise was startling. She recovered, and then she was left feeling mildly irritated. She closed her eyes to battle the pinch of pressure between her eyes. "What?"

"I mean, the way it adapts to pregnancy and birth."

"Will you please shut up?"

Rachel could detect the faint exasperation in Quinn's tone. "I was almost asleep when you asked if I could sleep with my arm up. That kind of disturbance is catastrophic to my sleep cycle. It's likely that I won't sleep for hours now."

Quinn felt badly about that but she was tired and she really didn't want to get into anything else right now, so she took to Rachel's fondness for cheap shots. "I know you're not, but I'm really tired. Both of us are."

"Really?" Rachel blurted curiously, as if the information was something she was grateful to have.

"Yes."

"Say no more."

Quinn wanted to tell Rachel that that was kind of the point but thought better of it. She didn't want her to think she was being moody, so she offered Rachel a goodnight. The beat of silence did nothing to ease her guilt "You can reply. I said goodnight."

"Goodnight," Rachel readily responded. "Night, Beth."

Quinn thought that was candid and light, and one of the sweetest things Rachel had ever said.

x x x x

She only woke to use the bathroom twice, which was a miracle in itself. Quinn didn't worry as much as earlier in the night as both times had Rachel practically asleep standing up and hugging the wall. Quinn's preference to keep the light off was also a probable contributing factor.

She'd fallen back asleep instantly, unconcerned with closeness or placement of limbs once they were back in bed. Quinn was never one to move around much once she had finally succumbed to sleep but Rachel turned frequently in her sleep, drawn to Quinn's side. The prediction of being pressed against Quinn, or at least being physically connected, during the night had been correct. Rachel woke to her cheek mushed against Quinn's arm —thankfully not drooling, their arms pinned to the scant space between their bodies. Once she woke to find her arm draped over Quinn's stomach in what was perhaps the most comfortable position she'd found all night; on her side in the middle of the bed. Quinn's arm, and her own by association, curved behind her back felt nice; comforting, and had drifted back off almost as soon as that had registered.

The final time Rachel woke up when it was still dark out was around five AM and because of a spike in temperature. She had moved further to her own side of the bed but had one leg behind her, pushed between Quinn's and sandwiched with her knees. Her intake of breath was long and slow; sleepy, and when she realised what the sensation was, Rachel began the delicate process of untangling their legs. A slow one, but successful all the same. As soon as it had been extracted, Quinn's breath lightened and Rachel was afraid she'd woken her.

No longer facing her, she couldn't see her face. It made it difficult to conclude but the concentration made Rachel a little more with it, a little more alert, and she felt an unmistakeable flex of fingers around her hand. That's when she realised that it was hot, a little sweaty if she was honest, but definitely being held. Even with Quinn as the only other occupant of the bed, Rachel briefly considered the possibility of it being someone else.

She didn't know who'd started it, but it was nice. Mildly sweaty, but that was to be a given under the covers. In any case, Quinn hadn't woken up in outrage and after consciously adjusting her own hold, Rachel went back to sleep.

Other than the couple of trips to the bathroom, the only time Quinn woke was when some hideous song blared from Rachel's clock radio at six on the dot. She'd frowned her displeasure and turned away from the noise, burying her face in the pillow. "No."

Rachel, understandably lethargic from disjointed sleep, flung her free arm out until it connected with the clock, silencing it at once. She'd mumbled an apology she'd barely remember in a few hours' time and then the room went still again.

x x x x

It was almost eleven AM and Quinn was finally considering a re-enactment of 127 Hours.

Russell had left a voicemail saying that Judy would like to put the finishing touches on the nursery and that he thought whatever Quinn had planned for the day ought to be cancelled. It all translated to Quinn being in deep shit unless she got out of those damned cuffs.

She stared at Rachel expectantly. "Well?"

"He's not picking up." Rachel gripped her phone tighter, willing Kurt's high voice to greet her instead of the automated voicemail message. This time, she didn't hang up after the beep. "Kurt, it's me, can you call me back as soon as you get this? Quinn is… she and I have come to a mutual understanding after last night and we'd appreciate—"

"We'd appreciate you getting your head out of your ass long enough to hand us the key," Quinn finished, having stolen the phone right from Rachel's hand, confident and smooth. "We're best friends now, okay? Lifelong friends who will experience the highs and lows of life together, and unless you want our first low to be your funeral, you'll put your foot to the floor in that big car Daddy bought you so that I'm home soon."

Rachel forcibly claimed her phone back and shoved it up to her ear, faux cheeriness seeping from her tone. "We hope you're well. Okay, bye!"

"I don't care how he is right now, Rachel," Quinn snapped. "Unless I'm home soon, my Dad's gonna hang me out to dry."

"I'm sure he won't."

"No, I'm sure he'll be understanding when I'm not there to help with the nursery they've paid through the nose for, all for the grandchild they didn't want for another decade. And I'm sure he'll laugh if he finds out the real reason I wasn't home last night; a real tickle for his sides."

Rachel understood the implication and swallowed, stung. This was hardly her fault. She shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to do."

Quinn took a deep breath to ground herself. She didn't mean to have an attitude with her. Ironically, Rachel was the only person she could stand right now. "I'm sorry, it's just… almost midday, and if I don't get home soon without you attached to my arm, I'll probably be grounded which means no Glee next week." At the very least.

That was unacceptable, and Rachel said as much.

"Do you have any bolt cutters?"

"That's a great idea." Rachel's eyes had sparked back to life, and Quinn felt relief rush through her.

"Are they in the garage?"

"Oh, no, we don't have any. Good idea, though."

Quinn gaped at her. What planet was she from? "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Daddy said they were taking up space on the wall, so he exchanged them for some solar powered lights and a few planters out back. Do you want to see? They've really bloomed lately." Rachel watched Quinn's jaw set. "Are you not interested in gardening? I hear it can be therapeutic for people with high levels of stress in their lives."

"Okay, I have to go," Quinn blurted. "Tell Kurt I'm going to kill him."

"I will not."

"I'm serious. He said we were to be stuck together for the night and that he would be back in the morning. It's almost midday."

"It's almost eleven," Rachel reasoned. "Do you want me to call your Dad and explain? I could say we have car trouble."

"No, because he'll drive over here and play hero."

"I could say I'm sick and that my Dads had to run out for a couple of hours. I do a very convincing stomach flu voice. Do you want to hear it?"

"No."

It rolled off Rachel's shoulders. She abhorred the thought of losing Quinn in practice next week but there was nothing she could do right now. As she was close enough, she opened the fridge to grab a bottle of orange juice. "Well, I think Kurt's going to drive right over as soon as he gets the message. He's probably already on his way."

Quinn allowed Rachel to lead them over towards the table and sit down. "If he knows what's good for him."

Rachel nodded appeasingly as she reached into the fruit bowl for an apple, offering one before she took another for herself. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Please don't raise your voice or attack him in the doorway. The neighbours don't need anything else to talk about."

Quinn supposed it wouldn't hurt to wait until the door was safely shut. She nodded. "I'm going to gag him first."

Rachel smiled around her bottle and then swallowed. "And it would only be fair that he was handcuffed to a chair."

Sometimes Quinn really loved the way Rachel's mind worked.

When another half hour passed with no sign of Kurt or a message to indicate that he was even en route, Quinn really began to lose her temper. Okay, so telling her father last night would have been beyond awkward and he would have definitely been rude to Rachel as well as use it for fodder to try to embarrass and humiliate Quinn for the next few months, but it wouldn't be as weird as if she were to pick up the phone and come clean now. She'd already lied. Breaking his trust again would probably be the last straw, and she wouldn't blame him.

She'd sent a text several minutes ago to apologise for not responding sooner and agreed to be home soon. Rachel's current reluctance to leave the house and go to Kurt's was driving Quinn insane.

"Why not?"

"Because you look mad!"

"That's hardly surprising." If Finn hadn't driven Quinn to Rachel's last night then she would have no reservations about dragging Rachel to her car instead.

"Quinn, this is Kurt_. _If he's not answering his phone, it's for a good reason."

"Not to me," Quinn remarked, her voice steely. There was a beat before she sucked in a breath and sighed it out, pushing up from her seat. "Let's go."

Rachel remained seated and made an effort not to wince. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Like sitting around is helping. We're going."

"No."

"Rachel," Quinn bit out. "Please don't be annoying about this."

"He'll _call_, just give him some more time."

"I don't have any!" Blowing up like that didn't seem to make much of a difference. "Is staying like this going to ruin your weekend, potentially your living situation?" Quinn asked, giving some thought to why Rachel wouldn't want her to make a scene at Kurt's but also wanting to get her point across. What she didn't want was Rachel to be hurt and to look away from her.

"No, but I also think that you're being just a _tad _dramatic."

"I'm not— Hey," Quinn moved her hand to pull on the cuffs, gaining Rachel's full attention again. "I'm not saying that to be mean," she said gently. "My Dad would just… He would—"

"He would hate you to sleep over alone with me because of my fathers," Rachel finished for her, curtly. She couldn't help but be hurt. That sort of thing didn't get easier to hear.

"He's an idiot."

"Yes, he is."

"But he's an idiot who keeps a roof over my head. Right now, there are some rules that I have to follow and lying isn't among them. Kind of already broke number one." Quinn fidgeted with her top, flicking some imaginary piece of lint or smoothing a crease. She would hope that Rachel knew her well enough to know that she didn't do this very often. Share. She would hope that it'd make a difference.

Rachel knew that, of course. Having Quinn be honest with her, while potentially hurtful, was something she'd wanted for a long time. A week ago, unprompted honesty was as likely as a flying pig. So, she relented some. "Okay."

"Okay, what? We can go see Kurt?"

"No," Rachel dismissed, picking her phone back up. "I'm going to do something way worse than anything you could do." Concentrating on her wording to the text message, she missed the arch of Quinn's brow. "After signing a contract, I borrowed a limited edition vinyl of one of his favourite musicals. I'm just going to remind him of how flammable paper is, and how delicate those old records can be."

If anything would get a rise out of Kurt, it was that. Quinn was totally on board.

There was a response moments later, and Quinn darted for it. With Rachel being much closer, she got to it first. She deflated in disappointment. "Brittany."

"What?"

"Brittany text."

Quinn got that. "What did she say?"

"Well, I don't know. I haven't read it yet," Rachel explained.

"Open it. Tell her to threaten Kurt."

Rachel didn't see Brittany doing any such thing, but she tapped on the message anyway, in no particular hurry. She could at least ask her friend to appeal to Kurt's soft side; the more people on their side the better. Before she read the text, another came through asking if Rachel was dead.

"Brittany wants to know if I'm dead," she smiled. "Should we mess with her?"

Any other day… maybe. Not now. "Tell her to ask Kurt if he'd like to be."

Rachel's soft smile began to fall away when she read further up. Brittany had messaged her twice before that. She'd completely forgotten to read the text from last night when she'd text her fathers. There was Brittany asking if Rachel was dead, another to apologise for yesterday, and one more to say—

Quinn regarded Rachel's dropped jaw as a bad sign. A very bad sign. She turned wary, unsure if she even wanted to know. "What?" she asked grudgingly. It was still hanging open. "Rachel, what?" As if Rachel was stuck in a trance, Quinn rolled her eyes and leaned forward to snap her fingers in front of her face. Brown eyes cut to hers.

When Rachel began throwing fruit out of the bowl, Quinn just assumed she'd finally lost it. It was only a matter of time, really.

That was until Rachel reached inside one final time and produced a small key. Quinn's lips parted. Once the slack-jawed, wide-eyed expression faded from her face, her ability to speak returned enough to utter, "Is that what I think it is?"

"Only one way to find out." Rachel could tell that it was the correct key before she'd lined it up. She smiled when it was inserted and her shoulders dropped noticeably. "Does this feel kind of anti-climactic to you?"

Anti-climactic? It had been all night.

Quinn's hand covered Rachel's in her haste to open the lock, trying to turn the key over small fingers. "Open it." The resistance was puzzling but the look on Rachel's face; suddenly all bright-eyed and mischievous made her laugh. "Rachel." She'd been unsuccessful in trying to sound serious.

"Tell me we're friends."

"What?"

Rachel tugged on the cuffs. Her playful expression sobered, and she watched Quinn's begin to do the same. "Tell me."

A soft click preceded the release of pressure from her wrist and Quinn twisted it free of the cuff previously bound to her. She rubbed at the offended skin, surprised to be free. She hadn't stopped trying to turn the key but Rachel's hand had been in the way so any effect seemed doubtful. Rachel looked over at her and lacked interest of their newfound freedom. She was staring, waiting on an answer.

"Tell me," she echoed, softly.

Quinn's mouth opened but she hesitated. It wasn't as simple as it sounded. The first things to spring to mind were a handful of times she'd been mean or stood by and laughed while Rachel was doused with a slushie. She hadn't acted like that in a long while, but hated to remember that she had once upon a time. She hated to remember that she'd once genuinely disliked her, rolled her eyes when Rachel said something typically _Rachel_. Then she remembered not disliking her, not even remembering how to, and as for rolling her eyes, well, Quinn wasn't perfect and sometimes Rachel was so very _Rachel _that she was powerless to resist.

And then Quinn remembered that her wrist was free, and that she didn't actually have to answer. She swallowed and made a show of waving her fingers. "Don't have to."

Rachel was a little disappointed but she was able to find the funny side of Quinn's reluctance to admit to their friendship. She smiled knowingly, and looked down once it widened upon spotting Quinn's embarrassment. The handcuffs had been tight but not too tight; Puck hadn't actually physically hurt either of them. Rachel still rubbed at the offended skin. Unrestricted movement felt strange. She could do anything she liked now. She could shower. She'd mentioned how she felt like Brett, the homeless-looking boy from school, not thirty minutes after waking up and Quinn had almost choked on the egg's she'd been eating before vehemently protesting to bathing of any kind while they were together.

The handcuffs dropping onto the table made a sizeable racket and both girls looked towards it. They'd been both a blessing and a curse. Rachel remembered how Puck had even got his hands on them in the first place. Her lip curled. "Okay, we'll save that for another day but you have to return them."

"To Puck?"

"To the box." Rachel wanted to be discussing anything else. "My Dads will probably… they'll probably notice if they're gone," she rushed out, repulsed. "You have to do it. Forfeit."

Quinn didn't have to ask what for. She almost wished she could say what Rachel desperately wanted her to. Unable to argue, she did as she was asked and lifted the handcuffs from the table. She'd do it. She'd close her eyes and deposit them back into the box without ever having the knowledge of what else was inside. If the tables were ever turned, she would expect (and hope and pray) Rachel to do the same for her.

The trip back upstairs was a quick one, and she was able to escape from the unexpected addition to their situation more or less unscathed. The box had been bigger than she'd been expecting and she didn't like to think about what kind of stuff the Berry men were into but she could guess at least one item in there without ever taking a peek. Luckily, Rachel shouting her from downstairs distracted her enough for that train of thought to derail. Quinn left the room in more of a rush than she'd entered it.

Rachel waited at the bottom of the stairs. She had Quinn's jacket and shoes all ready. The sight of her hurrying down the stairs wasn't an unwelcome one, and Rachel opened the jacket and turned it around in her hands, holding it open. She watched the gesture register for Quinn and spotted a moment of hesitance soften her usually sharp features before nonchalance took over. Rachel flashed a quick smile of encouragement when their eyes met and compliantly adjusted the positioning of the right arm for it to be more comfortable for Quinn to slip into.

She stepped back once Quinn was suited up, so to speak. It was probably warmer outside than it had been last night but she was still glad to see her prepared for a chill to the air.

"Do you want me to drive you?" she asked. "I could call Finn, if you'd prefer."

"If it's okay, I think—"

There was a loud honk right outside the house.

Curiously, they both headed over to the window and widened the slats of the blinds to see out into the street. It was Kurt's car. They watched him have what appeared to be a heated conversation while he leaned across his passenger —Finn— in an attempt to open his door instead. Extremely reluctant and having a more physical presence, Finn easily pushed him away until he fell against the steering wheel. The honking returned, and neither boy looked to let up any time soon.

Rachel rolled her eyes towards Quinn. She couldn't help a smile and chuckled once she saw a hint of one on Quinn's face. "Aw, they're scared."

"They should be."

Finn reared up, arm flying as he challenged the guy he was sort of being forced to live with right now, and then Kurt slumped sideways in his seat, turning to press his forehead against the headrest. The girls watched the scene for several moments until his door flung open.

They abandoned the window before they were caught.

Rachel held her finger to her lips once the doorbell rang, signalling to wait until at least the third ring of the bell. Quinn waited past the third ring and on to the second desperate thump of his fist against the door.

"Can you do angry?" Rachel asked, needlessly if the lift of Quinn's brow was anything to go by.

They stood side by side and Rachel witnessed Quinn's expression harden, and the lowering of the brow that had just been arched. It was almost a blink-and-you'll-miss-it deal, and she distantly thought that Quinn would make a great actress. Knowing she was ready, Rachel pulled the door open with a firm tug of her hand.

The door swung open and Kurt took one look at Quinn before swallowing. Like most guys, he'd been intimidated by her before but there was something about the fury of a pregnant Quinn Fabray that made him want to lose his breakfast on the doorstep. He actually felt himself begin to sweat, and he stared at Rachel instead.

"Ladies, I'm going to start with an apology," he began uneasily.

"Start with the key," Quinn hissed. "And where you've been all morning."

That tone surely meant his death. Kurt twisted his head to glance towards his car where Finn sat staring anywhere but there, gnawing on his thumb. His eyes narrowed. Finn was supposed to be his support. He was the father of Quinn's baby, surely that meant helping to curb any, say, murderous fantasies she may have. Perhaps currently. Perhaps directed towards him.

Saying one final goodbye to the world and all the dreams he'd had for his life, Kurt faced death in the face. At least Quinn was frustratingly beautiful in every way. "The key seems to have…been misplaced," he confessed, a brick in his stomach. "I've been looking for it all morning. Not that he's currently doing anything useful, but Finn's been helping me. I think Puck packed up and moved when he found out, so that's one person you can cross off your To-Kill list." The silence made his stomach churn. "I don't know what happened. It was in my wallet when I left last night. I took Brittany home and was tucked up in bed with my laptop and Netflix for eleven."

Quinn looked entirely unimpressed. "Do you know how pissed I've been?"

He nodded sagely. God, if he hadn't feared for his friend's safety the past several hours. "I can imagine."

"No, you can't," she bit out, shoulder to shoulder with Rachel. "Do you know what Rachel's had to put up with because of your stupid little stunt?"

Kurt wanted to say that he hadn't exactly thought of the handcuff angle, but it wasn't as if he'd necessarily thought it was a terrible idea either. He'd gone along with it. "I'm sorry, Rachel."

He looked so contrite that Rachel almost felt bad.

"Do you know how hysterical I get when I'm tense? Quinn has enough stress in her life right now; she doesn't exactly need me adding to it in her condition."

"I'm sorry, Quinn."

Rachel shifted her weight to one leg and reached up to hang her arm over Quinn's shoulders. "I'm not sure sorry is good enough." The confusion transforming into shock was deeply satisfying to witness. Rachel turned to Quinn once she heard Kurt's audible inhalation. "What do you think?"

"Not even close."

"You have a lot of grovelling to do," Rachel informed him. "All of you. And I think it's only fair that I get an extra solo in Glee next week."

Amidst his stupor, Kurt nodded. Behind him, Finn practically fell out of the car.

"You found it? Where was it? 'C-cause I said you should have searched around here," he said quickly.

In that moment, Kurt was grateful for Finn's presence and felt alert and safe enough to take his eyes off the girls. They'd ganged up on him but they seemed to… not hate each other? "I told you, it would have been a waste of time. The key was in my wallet."

"It coulda fallen out."

Kurt looked at him incredulously. "It could have fallen out of the loose pants that I wear every day?"

Finn frowned, confused. "I mean, they can't be that tight. Your…junk would be all—"

"You're driving me home," Quinn's sharp voice cut in.

Kurt nodded to the demand. He wouldn't chance arguing with Quinn's authoritative tone after what she'd just been through, and Finn apparently agreed because he rushed off to open the car door ready for her.

"Glad you're okay, Rachel," he called back.

Quinn wondered just how many of their friends thought Rachel would be dead by now. It was funny because her mouth might run away with her sometimes but she had never been able to physically harm Rachel, nor had she ever wanted to.

"I'm fine," Quinn stated drily. "So's Beth. Thank you for asking."

He smiled, finally relaxed for the first time in the four hours he'd been awake —thanks to Kurt bursting in his room dramatically declaring a Gleemergency. "You were with Rachel; knew she'd take good care of you guys."

Rachel lifted her chin, self-satisfied. "At least one of you has faith in me," she said pointedly to the girl beside her. Her eyes sparkled with fondness. "I have to be honest, your initial freak-out kind of scared me."

"I react badly to claustrophobic situations."

"I understand," she smiled up at her, aware of their audience but more of how much she appreciated getting to spend that time with Quinn alone and how badly she wanted it to happen again, under entirely different circumstances. Her arm fell down to her side and she leaned against the door frame. "At least we're finally friends now."

Kurt's face lit up in hope. He wanted that Regionals trophy almost as much as Rachel did. "Really?"

Quinn's mouth twisted into a reluctant smile. Rachel was a sneaky little thing. "Kind of."

"And I totally respect you."

Kurt stared, lapping it up and eagerly awaiting her response; something Quinn was not unaware of. Overnight she'd discovered Rachel's humour and could tell that while this exchange had mostly been for show, there had been nothing but sincerity to her last statement.

Echoing words took too long and Kurt feared their progress would be ruined should Quinn not be able to return the sentiment. They were kind of friends; that was huge. More than he had expected, if he was completely honest. "Amazing! So proud of you, ladies. Quinn, I hear you're anxious to get home? Meet you in the car in ten seconds." He rushed off before she could say anything.

For a moment, Quinn had completely forgotten about going home. But she would have to face the music sooner or later, and sooner would be in her favour. She stepped out of Rachel's house.

Being put on the spot in front of Kurt had thrown her, but now that they were alone she had a little less trouble in admitting, "I always have."

Rachel resisted following her out onto the driveway. Her voice had come through loud and clear but she hadn't been able to see her face. "What?"

Finally, Quinn cast a long look back. "I may not have always liked you," she admitted. "But I've always respected you."

Rachel gazed back, uncertain of what to say next. The sudden honk of Kurt's horn might have made her jump had she not been in her own world. She smiled slowly, bashfully, and Quinn gave her a slight nod before she turned and made her way to the car.

It felt like progress.

It felt like they could be forced into that situation again soon and actually just hang out instead of find something to argue about. Mostly, though, it felt like they wouldn't even need the handcuffs next time.


End file.
